


LETTERS between SISTERS

by AEMarling



Category: Anna - Fandom, Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22389514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEMarling/pseuds/AEMarling
Summary: "Dearest Elsa,If we are to be further apart, we must be closer with our thoughts. Distance is another closed door. Let’s pass messages beneath it. Sometimes I don’t tell you all I mean, in person. I’ll try to be bolder in my letters.Your Anna"Begins immediately after the end of Frozen II.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Queen Anna,

The moment I entered my ice palace I knew something was wrong. Touching the translucent doors prickled my fingers, though not from their cold. Gazing at the icicle fountain made the back of my neck itch, though the fractal designs looked as perfect as when I created them. Entering the great foyer unsettled me, though not from its motionless snowdrifts. I had expected this. 

All my snowman had fallen to pieces after I had gone too deep in Ahtohallan. I had rebuilt Olaf at once, and it was past time I brought back to life the rest. To do just that, Olaf and I had travelled here together on the back of the water horse, riding upstream, hiking the rest of the way up ice stairs, to the top of the North Mountain. 

The snowmen littered my ice palace in mounds of powder. I warned Olaf to stay outside; he might not wish to see this. 

“What’s to be scared of?” Olaf strode past me, his carrot nose at a confident angle. “The philosophy of Birta Bluetoes is that tragedy enriches our lives and---NO NO NO NO! AHHHHH! OH, THAT’S NOT SNOW BUT A MASSACRE! SOMEONE, TAKE MY EYES AWAY! TAKE MY WHOLE HEAD!”

To spare Olaf, I wasted no time in remaking his fellow snowmen. Magic flurried between my fingers. I breathed out memories of winter.

The little snowgies popped up with all my feverish love from the time I planned your birthday. You are right, Anna. They are like snowballs with smiles. They raced around the fountain, rolled over the crystal floor, piled on top of each other, and leaped together, higher than my head like a team of acrobats. I laughed.

Then I sighed out a breath of mist as I raised my palace guard. He towered above in his frosty bulk, ice spiked, eyes smoldering blue as a glacial chasm filled with my fear. How happy I am that those days are over.

“Marshmallow! Little brother!” Olaf embraced the guard’s leg, twig arms not quite reaching all the way around the pillar of snow. 

The guard’s icicle-cavern maw reformed into what I dare say looked like a self-conscious grin. He spoke in a bellow. “Littler brother! Where did you go?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Olaf gestured to the guard and the rest of the snowmen. “Gather around, Sludge and Slush and Slide, gather closer, Gelid and Glee and Glissade, and Björn.” 

Olaf pretended to know the name of every snowgie, all hundreds of them. Maybe he really does. At least he remembered Björn, my snow bear. He sat on his frosty haunches, along with the rest of the snowmen, to watch Olaf’s reenactment of our latest adventure. 

I would’ve remained to enjoy the performance, if not for that lingering sense of wrongness. My snowmen had crumbled. Had my ice palace in my absence begun to crack? I walked across the floor and found the design of my snowflake intact. I ran a hand along a banister and found it smooth. I searched the upper chambers and found them as I had left them, clear and gleaming.

Yes, the autumn sun had warmed the south walls and left ripples and icicles. The outer layer of ice had begun to melt. Resting my palm on the coolness of a column, I let my inner peace flow outward. The exterior refroze, a return to perfection. Yet, all was still not right. Something about my palace felt unstable, unsafe, unwelcoming.

My consciousness spread into the ice. I could do this long before Ahtohallan, but over the years it has become easier. I searched for the flaw within the water crystal. Once, cold spines had jutted from the walls in agony, from my pushing you away, Anna. Once, I had broken my balcony railing, and a falling ice chandelier had almost broken me. I had repaired all that on my last visit. 

What then was the problem?

I asked that of Bruni, my dear fire salamander. The little elemental spirit had come with me from the Enchanted Forest and had been napping on my shoulder. He yawned awake, stretched, and then saw we were within architecture of ice. If you can believe it, Anna, Bruni’s eyes bulged even more than their usual.

Bruni blazed down my ice-jeweled dress, around my snowy pant leg, and onto the deliciously cold floor. He did a happy dance, four feet pumping with wisps of steam. He rolled his tummy over the ice, pink tongue lolling in contentment. The fire salamander’s color was similar to the palace’s. Blue flame on blue ice.

As you might have guessed, Bruni was no great help. His feet melted divots into the floor. Did you know salamanders have four toes on their front feet and, on their hind ones, five? His tail made flicking marks on the pillars as he scampered up. I started to smooth over the ice behind him.

Then I stopped. The footprints were adorable, and likely no one would notice them but me. The imperfections didn’t make me feel worse. I began to think the problem wasn’t in the palace itself.

Turning toward the balcony doors, I waited. A tingling spread from my nose down into my chest. I sensed a spirit coming in that direction, toward me with urgency. Closing my eyes, I dipped into my inner vastness.

Last game night you asked what it is like since I became the Fifth Spirit. I didn’t know how to answer. Writing out my experiences at length every week may help. But I didn’t become something different. I always was the Fifth Spirit. I’ve just now realized my purpose, thrown open a door within myself and begun to explore a winter wonderland twinkling with fresh snow. To think it might have stayed locked away within me, forever unseen.

Much about my role as ambassador to the spirits remains unknown to me. That makes it all the more exciting. A fleeting feeling meant Gale was approaching. I began to smile.

Then I stopped. I had not yet composed a letter for Gale to carry to you. Our mutual spirit friend was coming early, and she was coming faster than ever before. I wondered if I had sensed her earlier but mistaken the feeling as coming from my ice palace. I strode to open the balcony door, to welcome her.

A shadow fell over me and the crystal floor. My snowman guard, Marshmallow, had lumbered closer. His voice sounded like a glacial groan. “Queen Elsa.” 

I began to explain how I had abdicated in favor of you, but Marshmallow took my hand in his ice claws. He rested it against his chest. “Do you want it back?”

The sight of your sister pulled close to the hulking snowman may have confused you, maybe even frightened you. I thought of you then, and had you been there I would have reassured you that Marshmallow was gentle. I was overtaken not by his strength but his vulnerability. 

You see, he wears my old tiara, though not on the outside. He must have found it here years ago and buried it within his own snow. I had rebuilt him around the crown. Now he was asking if I wished for it back.

No, I neither wanted the tiara nor needed it. Feeling a lump of something heavy in my own chest, I said I know how it can be to hold a part of yourself hidden inside. Marshmallow could wear the tiara in plain view, if he wanted to. 

He grumbled, the sound of ice splitting granite apart, bit by bit eroding it to dust. I took him to mean he prefers to keep his crown a secret.

I opened my mouth to tell him he should not hide a part of himself. Instead, I hesitated. Perhaps what was right for me could be wrong for another. Anna, what should I have done? What I did was pat his chest, and, yes, I told him he has a heart of gold. 

Just then Olaf skated in, ahead of a snowgie avalanche. “Elsa, Elsa, we decided to move in with you in your new palace, Ahto-halls-decked-with-snowmen!” 

“Ahtohallan,” I tried to tell them and that it was far greater than any mere palace. However, the excitement level of the snowgies had reached full blizzard. 

“I promised to give them a repeat performance,” Olaf said with a theatrical wave of his arm twig. “Bet glaciers have the best acoustics.” 

I loved the idea of showing Olaf and the others the faceted azure of Ahtohallan’s caverns. We could sail there on an iceberg. I would invite you too, Anna, though I know well how much time is required being queen. 

The snowmen and I may have begun the adventure, if not for the interruption of one even grander. 

That was when the balcony door burst open, and in came Gale. The wind spirit whirled in greeting. My cape twirled around me in a vortex of gossamer and snow glitter. The familiar Gale refreshed me. The stranger she came with thrilled me. 

A second spirit gusted in after her. Colder, stronger, fiercer, this one rattled the chandelier’s crystals in a chiming cacophony. I had wondered why Gale was moving faster. She and this second spirit had flown together. Now they filled the room with a roaring.

The snowgies fell still as new snow. Their mouths opened in awe. 

Marshmallow shielded me, but I waved him back, savoring the buffeting wind. I asked Gale for introductions.

The elemental spirits do not speak to me in words, per say. Still, I am beginning to better understand them. The stronger wind came from the north, over mountain range and below arctic sky. She had rested on beds of glaciers, gathered speed around snowy peaks, and gusted across a lake topped with white ice and ringed with black beaches. I had a sense of it. It exhilarated me, even from so far away, but then in my vision, the sand turned from black to crimson.

My ice palace flickered red.

I inclined my head to the spirits. I understood their meaning. Something had happened near that waterfall valley that requires me. Here was an opportunity to fulfill my duty as the Fifth Spirit. 

Excitement lifted me to my tiptoes. Or maybe that was the wind spirits.

As they murmured and hissed past my ears, my sense of the lake sharpened. Frost capped the black stones of its beaches. The sense of red lingered out of sight, like skin beneath riding breeches rubbed raw. All was not well, and there was something strange within the frozen lake. I couldn’t make it out, but I did spy nearby a distinct formation of rock: a cliff of steps, a honeycomb of columns.

Anna, could this be in Weselton? Even if so, I no longer fear the duke or his men. I will depart as soon as I finish this letter. Gale will carry it to you, and the arctic spirit will convey me to the lake.

As weightless as I feel, I don’t think I should try to travel through the empty air. I will give the wind wings and a form for me to fly on. Today I’ll craft one more snowman: a great snowy owl. I cannot wait to try it.

You once couldn’t stop talking about a winter owl. Skipping down the halls, you pointed out windows to frosty trees. “Elsa! Elsa! Do you see her?” I never did, but now I will and much more.

The horizon beckons. The sun descends toward the Arendelle cliffs in triumphant reds. Twilight fills the sky with mysterious purples. There I will fly, to be where I’ve never been, to do what I can barely imagine.

I will bring you with me, Anna, as best I can with these letters. If I am gone for longer than a week, please forgive my absence.

Thinking of your forgiveness, I now realize what is the matter with my palace. The flaw wasn’t within its ice but its past. High on its balcony, sunset reflecting below me, I see the memory of striking you inadvertently. It was my fault that ice entered your heart. It happened here, within my first masterpiece and second shame.

I regret bringing it up. Now I worry I have only pricked you again. 

Though my ice palace will ever be a refuge for snowmen and spirits, I do not think I could live here again. I would not be sorry if I never return.

I am going now to the north. This letter flies to the south, to you. May winds be swift and the aurora bright.

Sincerely,

Elsa


	2. Chapter 2

Dearest Elsa,

It’s ten in the evening, and I’m afraid.

Afraid that you left Olaf behind. By summer and sundaes, I hope not! Last time you nearly broke his heart. Snowmen can’t cry except by melting, and he would melt himself to pieces over either of us.

I’m afraid you will skip game night. You wrote out everything that you would have told me [Thursday] anyway. Why can’t you make it? You can travel so fast by spirit it’s as if you can be two places at once. Even if it’s only half of you, I would love to see you. Distraction, I’ll understand. Distance, ha! Elsa, please try to come home.

I am afraid you’re alone. Why do you keep leaving us behind? We’re not like you. We can’t travel to the horizon and back before breakfast. If you left Olaf at the palace, turn your north wind back south. Go and get him, so you won’t have to be by yourself.

Yes, I’m afraid for you. You’re powerful  ~~but fragile~~ . Sorry, Elsa. I’ll cross that out. You’re my strong sister. My older friend. My queenly role model, and with you so far, my world seems fragile. It could all come tumbling down. I don’t want to feel that again. I don’t want to lose you.

I will finish this letter tonight and give it to Gale. That poor elemental! How far will she have to fly to find you? At least she seems to enjoy passing notes for us. It’s like a game of tag-the-sister to her. And I guess the longer letters aren’t a bother? Right now I can hear her above, racing across the roof steeples.

If we are to be further apart, we must be closer with our thoughts. Distance is another closed door. Let’s pass messages beneath it. Sometimes I don’t tell you all I mean, in person. I’ll try to be bolder in my letters.

Yours I’m keeping close. Every few seconds I glance again at the salutation. “Dear Queen Anna,” you wrote, and I scarcely believe it. What a wonder! What a dream! To see your confidence in me. How it glows, how it warms, how it surrounds me in an endless field of sunflowers, all shining golden, all green leafed and bristling with seeds, all ripe and smelling of carefree dawns.

This letter, your letter, your abdication, your entrusting Arendelle to me, it fills me with joy. I am brimmed. Does anyone say that? What I mean, Elsa, is you’ve given me a gift to last a hundred birthdays.

That’s how long I hope to be queen. Every day I gasp awake, hardly believing it’s true. As queen I can do more for my people, our people, all people. I can give back. I can express my thanks. I’ll never again be trapped in inaction.

It’s ten-thirty at night, and I feel great.

How can I sleep now when tomorrow beckons with limitless possibility? What will I build as queen? What will Arendelle need of me? I can’t rest with all this glee. I can’t keep all this happiness to myself. I want to run from my royal bedroom, slide down the banister, and wake Kristoff.

Lord Kristoff of Arendelle, I love writing that, almost as much as I love saying it, to him. Yes, Kristoff still feels more comfortable sleeping in the stables, even though he’s engaged to the queen. Often he’s up in the mountains. Going downstairs to find him gone feels like the beginning of a nightmare. No more Nattmara! Then I remember what he told me the day before.

“Going up to Leifur’s Lake, to carve your name out in ice blocks.”

“ _ But how will she see it in the mountains, _ ” he asked as Sven, “ _ when she’s stuck here to her throne? _ ”

I told Kristoff I could imagine my name already carved in the frozen lake, block by block. If he can, he should also write his name and a heart into the ice. Yes, Elsa, it may be silly, but I hope you can see it’s also adorable, especially what Kristoff said next.

“I used to whistle when working, you know. But now it’s harder. Thinking of you makes me smile too much. I can’t get my lips right.” He gestured to his mouth.

I swatted his hand away and showed him how to get his lips right, all right. Sorry, Elsa. I know romance  ~~disgusts~~ bores you. [/kissing bores you./ don’t mean to bore you. I’ll try to write as little kissing] I’ll try to write as little as possible in my letters. Kindly don’t blame me if delight overflows through my quill.

Even now I’m itching to rush to the stables, despite knowing Kristoff isn’t there. On any other night I might. Instead, I’ll write.

Kristoff’s gone. Olaf’s gone. You’re gone. And I’m alone in a palace all my own.

It’s eleven at night, and I am frightened.

Every day is a glory. Every moment with the crown is a blessing, and my gratitude is golden. Every frustration seems small in the daylight. But at night, in hindsight, I begin to fear.

How can I ever compare to my queen sister? Arendelle deserves so much more. You were always punctual. I am always too excited to get to bed. I oversleep, groggy, every minute late means people waiting. Kai and Gerda sigh, waving my morning appointments goodbye.

They never say they’re disappointed. It takes all their tact at statecraft and aplomb as lifelong servants of the realm not to say it. Kai brushes a hand over his bald head, as if he’s patting down hair that’s no longer there, like he does when he’s overly distressed. Gerda pinches her lips and looks at me like I’m five again. I don’t blame them. Their queen can’t sit still on her throne, can’t remember where she left her crown.

Tomorrow the great hall will once again fill with petitioners, and I fear I won’t be able to help any of them. I fear they call me “Your Majesty” ironically. I fear I’ll never be half the queen you’ve been.

If Oaken’s latest invention explodes, I can’t fight fires by wiggling my fingers. Can’t ice Niels’ fields to sweeten his Brussels sprouts. Can’t keep my hair neat or my dress clean. Can’t create an ice rink in the palace courtyard on Saturdays.

What I can do is look at your letter’s salutation. I remind myself you trusted me to rule Arendelle, now and when you planned to leave on the Grand Tour. I try to do the next right thing as the candles burn low and my fears lengthen.

It’s midnight, and I know I should sleep.

Just as soon as I go upstairs.

There! I’m back from the attic with my old Viking hat. It’s not as heavy as my tiara and much fuzzier. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep now. Not that I was going to bed wearing the crown, except for that once by accident. But it does weigh my head down while I’m waiting on the throne. Elsa, did you ever nod off in an audience? Be honest.

Maybe I’m no good at this. I know, Elsa. You also feared being a bad queen, but here I am in a frumpy hat thinking I might be a better jester. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about ambassadors muttering of war. Then I wouldn’t have to squirm while Kai flounders for the most tactful way to say the queen’s engagement with a mountain man isn’t politic.

Yes, Elsa, some people are upset. I won’t repeat what Wale wrote in the Crown because I frankly don’t remember it. But the gist was that becoming queen only gives me more opportunities to be royally clumsy.

I can’t bear to write more. I feel sick, and at last I’m getting tired. Giving this letter to Gale will let her bring yours back faster. Please, write with advice. Better yet, tell me in person on game night. ~~How do you even queen?~~ What should I do to be half as regal as you?

I always imagined you as queen. Sometimes I dreamed of ruling alongside you but never on my own. In the darkest hours, when even the moon has gone, I feel like an imposter.

Goodnight now,

Your Anna

P.S.: You were worried I had forgotten your question, weren’t you? But I didn’t! That black-sand lake sounds like Svartgel, near the border of Weselton but in Vakretta. I daydreamed of visiting Svartgel between readings of father’s atlas. Elsa, search around the basalt columns. You should find something exciting. 

P.P.S.: Oh, and the name of the owl was [Solveig]. I think? I was so young. Pretty sure I didn’t imagine her. She was real and really hard to see in the snowy branches and her winter coat. If I’m reading this right, you mean to give a spirit of the north a giant-snowman body, shaped like an owl, and ride it through the sky? I hope that’s what I dream tonight. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Queen Anna,  
> I did not abdicate because I thought you could become as good a queen. I abdicated because I know you can be a better one.   
> Sincerely,  
> Elsa

Dear Queen Anna,

A wonderful sister once told me, “Remember, there are other ways to help people.” As queen I did not need to solve everything with my magic, and you do not need my magic to be queen. Do not feel obligated to try to be more like me. You only must be truly yourself.

I did not abdicate because I thought you could become as good a queen. I abdicated because I know you can be a better one. 

Anna, you have a magic all your own. The way you talk to people, it seems like telepathy. You put them at ease. I could turn clear skies into snow. Your alchemy can transform ill will into laughter, which is far greater. To me, it is sorcery how you can be so lovely. They called me Arendelle’s ice queen. I cannot wait to learn, now that it is your turn, what they will say of your reign.

(What I hope never to hear is that you tried so much to be like me that you wore my clothes. Anna, I trust you will leave my drawers alone.)

You asked for my honest answer: Did I ever nod off in a royal audience? No, though I came close. I excused myself, a yawning disgrace. When I tried to nap, my bed felt lumpy with guilt. Every moment as queen I dragged a train of doubt. From coronation to abdication, I felt the throne room was my comfortable prison.

Now I am free. I fly over mountain ranges white and glorious. I breathe in breezes. I revel in stillness and drink deep of peace. On the horizon when something new slips into view, I feel I have found treasure. How much more precious it becomes with the thought of sharing it with you. That is exactly what I intend to do, in writing.

Your letter was another treasure. I admit sealing letters with hot wax was one of my favorite duties as queen. Now I can imagine you doing the same and smiling. Beside the royal crocus on the letter was your personal seal: the sunflower wreathed with wheat. I expected it and even so, holding a letter from Queen Anna of Arendelle lit me up with pride. I could not bear to break it. Instead I froze off the seal and am saving it in my pocket.

I regret the letter I sent you will have already melted. I should have anticipated your desire to keep it. This one I compose on ice paper should last longer. It will not be shorter, in terms of length. I have so much to say, sadly, of my misadventure at Svartgel Lake.

Even now I am procrastinating in penning it. In your letter you entrusted me with your fears. That takes true courage. I often think you are the braver sister, yet I will do my best to write the truth. You deserve nothing less.

* * *

To create a great snow owl I started with the pure note of wonder that resonates between me and Ahtohallan. I added the excitement of seeing fresh powder on a winter day, and I finished with the fierceness of a sister’s love. Before me glittered a new snow sculpture, the owl’s wingspan as wide as a ship is long, prow to stern.

“Horaah!” Olaf clapped his hands together with a clatter. “That snow owl is big enough to eat me in one bite like a snow mouse. How exciting!”

Olaf’s twigs trembled as wind spirits swept in to examine my new sculpture.

I introduced Olaf to Gale’s friend. I decided to call her Northerly. Waving my hands in a vortex pattern, I beckoned the arctic spirit into the great snow owl. I had never done this before, but it felt right. Do not trouble yourself, Anna. I did not force Northerly into the owl. I welcomed her. I did not insist, but the wind spirit seemed interested.

Olaf tapped his chin. “If you turned me into a hundred snow mice, would I still be Olaf and like warm hugs? Only tiny ones? Would I be hungry for cheese the color of sunshine?”

I did not have words for Olaf just then, marveling at the great snow owl’s transformation. With a roar of wind and thunder boom, Northerly joined with my creation. They changed into something new and strong. Wings of snowstorm, eyes of winter, feathers of sleet, talons of ice, Northerly blew around the mountain with Gale. With every wing beat, ice tinkled down after her, and Northerly tailed hail.

The great stormy owl slammed down in front of us in a snowy plume. Northerly folded her wings back and leaned close to my ice stair. She gazed at me with eyes frosty with impatience.

I leapt onto her back and waved goodbye to Olaf. Forgive me, Anna. I had not yet received your letter. Gale was just then fluttering off with my first one to you. I told Olaf and the rest of the snowmen I would catch up to them before they reached the Dark Sea, on their journey to Ahtohallan.

Marshmallow lumbered downhill, followed by an avalanche of giggly snowgies. They rolled and tumbled, bounced and bumbled.

“Oh, goodie!” Olaf left them to hop over the railing and climb after me. “And I’m so looking forward to seeing you again I think I’ll go with you now.”

I had expected Olaf to guide the snowmen. Upon consideration, I thought he might be better off with me. As you can see, Anna, you do not have to worry. Even without Olaf, I would have been in good company. Northerly and Bruni were at my side, and you were in my thoughts as we departed.

The fire salamander climbed between the icy spikes of Northerly’s ears. He flew with mouth open, tongue lolling, voracious for the crisp coolness. Other people might have called it freezing, racing over the cloud tops with the great stormy owl. It did not bother me, and I found myself grinning, laughing high in the sky. Forests flowed beneath us, and mountain ranges sawed. In no time at all we arrived at Svartgel Lake.

Anna, I am uncertain I will see another frozen lake like this. I know with a certainty I will remember this one for the rest of my life.

The great stormy owl landed with a bluster of wing and a howling. Northerly bowed me down to the lake. Bruni scampered afterward, licked the ice, and made a face. Olaf slid down frost feathers.

“Woooooow!” Olaf’s exclamation echoed back to us with painful loudness. The place seemed to demand a hush. “Sorry. What is this, Elsa? Why is the lake full of little clouds?”

Beneath our feet floated white shapes, suspended in the black ice. I walked rapt across a landscape of frozen dreams. In places the shapes in the lake looked like something half formed on a potter’s wheel, contorted urns. In others, they reminded me of splatter from a painter’s brush; this lake was an otherworldly masterpiece.

“That one looks like a pancake ready to cook.” Olaf tapped above one white shape. “And that one---Ah! Like a trapped snowgie. Won’t you help him?”

I knelt, pressing my hands against the ice. Closer now, I could see strings of frozen bubbles, more delicate than pearls. It was as if the ice was boiling. The air pockets clustered into the strange shapes, a frozen foam. My senses flowed through the lake, and I gasped.

My mouth filled with a rotten taste. I cringed, at once aware of every imperfection in the ice, the multitude of blisters within its crystal. They were not air but something fouler. The thickness of the ice made it solid, but it was like kneeling on a tombstone. I would not have guessed something so marvelous could come from death. This was a lake of frozen ghosts.

I do not mean spirits were trapped in the ice. No, nothing so lively as water wights. I sensed some in the distance but none nearby, other than Bruni and Northerly.

The great stormy owl gave a mournful hoot. Faint morning light glimmered over the facets of her feathers. Whether from her or some other Fifth Spirit power, I gained an understanding of what had happened here.

Spirits once lived in this lake in great number, I told Olaf. The waters rippled with life, even under ice, more fish than you could ever catch.

My gaze roamed to the black shore. Smoke rose from the chimneys of a nearby village. I could imagine men and women cutting holes in the lake in the winter and bustling about in fishing boats in the summer. Now, all was still.

“Why did the spirits leave?” Olaf asked. 

There had been a battle. I strode to the far shore and recreated it in ice. Here, on the loose black stones of this beach, armies of Weselton and Vakretta had skirmished. Ranks of ice sculptures charged each other. Stay crossbow bolts had bored into the water. Cannon balls had impacted and sent waves across the entire lake. Black powder had washed into the spirits’ home along with blood and hate.

They all left. The spirits fled Svartgel Lake. No longer did they dance unseen between waves or relax among reflections of snow-capped mountains. No longer did they celebrate beneath winter’s ice. The bounty of their blessing departed with them, and all the fish died.

You may remember, Anna, tales of Vikings removing the dragon masts from their longboats before returning home. They did not wish to frighten away the land spirits that made their fields fertile. Though I had never given it much thought, I now see the danger.

All the lake’s life had perished. Bubbles from their rotting corpses filled the ice.

I shuddered, though not from the cold. With a wave of my hand I crumbled my ice-sculpture army.

“Else, why do people go to war?” Olaf’s innocent gaze tore at my heart.

I did not have an answer.

“Birta Bluetoes wrote that war was man’s greatest folly. I don’t understand, Elsa. Do women make other kinds of follies?”

No, I told him. We make snowmen.

I turned to Northerly, thinking I knew now why she had brought me here. She expected me to guide the spirits back to their lake.

The great stormy owl pivoted her head all the way around. She looked to the town. A few figures picked their way toward us over the ice. We must have been seen.

Northerly shrieked and flew into the sky. Her snow wings expanded to cover us with overcast. The spirit transformed into a storm cloud. Snow sifted down.

The townsfolk hesitated, no longer coming closer. I walked toward them, telling Olaf to stay behind. I did not want to alarm them further with living snowmen.

The people reminded me of ice harvesters in their leathers, one man, one woman. They squinted toward me through the snow. “Hoi! Do you need help?”

“There she is,” the other cried out too, lifting a blanket and hustling toward me. “Must be near frozen.”

I called back that I was fine.

“Life’s worth living, despite everything,” the man said. “Soon you’ll be warm and feel better.”

“Yes, you’re not the first to come out here like this, but….” The woman blinked at my elemental gown, missed a step, and slipped.

I helped her up and reassured the woman I was well. How thoughtful of them both to come out, assuming I needed help.

“You’re not even wearing shoes,” the man said through chattering teeth.

Yes I was: sandals. I lifted a foot for them to see.

They looked more bewildered. “Then you’re not cold?”

No, but I could see they were. The pair shivered. What was more, they looked half starved. I took their blanket and draped it over their own shoulders. I asked them if the town had any food stores left.

Before they could think to answer, Olaf burst in. “I’m Olaf and I like warm hugs!”

A few tense moments followed. Once they shook off their shock, the man even laughed. “You’re a talking snowman.”

“I can do other things, too,” Olaf said.

Insight lit up the woman’s gaunt features as she looked at me. “And you’re Arendelle’s Ice Queen!”

“Yes, she has to be,” the man said.

Not technically, I tried to tell them.

“W-what are you doing here?” The man began to lower himself as if to kneel but instead took a half step away, huddling closer under the blanket with the woman.

I straightened. Clasping hands in front of my waist, I told them I was the Fifth Spirit and had come to restore their lake to life. My voice had a quaver. The title had not sounded natural, but calling myself queen at first had not been any easier.

The woman stared. The man leaned hard against her. He seemed close to collapse. She asked, “You can bring back the lake wights?”

I promised I could. What I did not tell them was that I had no idea how.

* * *

I sensed the lost spirits beyond the lake, near the outcrop of rock columns.

Skating there, I stared up at the cluster of pillars. To get a better look at them I dusted off the snow with a lifting motion of my hands. The powder floated upward, while below the stacks stood white on sand of black. They gave the impression of columns from a hundred ballrooms all smashed together, their tops broken off at irregular intervals.

Olaf hopped up them like an uneven stair. “Ha! Elsa, play this new game with me.”

Anna, I do not doubt you would have joined him at once. I felt obligated to go to the spirits first.

Beside the rock stacks opened a cavern. Amid the stark colors of winter, it glowed green. Within, trees glimmered with florescent fruits. Berries shone like stars along the cave walls. So vast was the entrance arch that I could see the entire interior from outside. Only a few creeper vines obscured my vision. Stepping closer, I felt a warm breeze scented of sweetness, spring, and, strangely, sulfur.

Of the spirits nothing could be seen, except maybe in the corner of my eye. Yes, more beings gleamed within. Their shape I could not make out. I guessed them shy, like the Hulderfólk we once spied. These spirits belonged in the lake, but they were not like the Water Nokk. They lacked the turbulence of river or sea. As I approached I felt their tranquility.

I stopped short of entering. Bruni bolted in. The fire salamander had followed me up the shore. He crossed the cave threshold and zigzagged over its moss-covered floor and between pink shrubberies. For a breath I worried he would set the cavern garden on fire, but he seemed well behaved.

Clearing my throat, I spoke to the cave full of spirits. I asked if I may come in.

I doubt spirits understand our individual words so much as our intent. The creeper vines dangling across the entrance parted. It seemed welcoming.

I followed Bruni in. The fire salamander was padding back and forth and lifting his head to sniff.

Olaf joined us. “Yay! A cavern full of summer. Who can I thank with a hug?”

The lake spirits were enchanting this place, I told him.

“But where are they?”

They were all around us. Like hummingbirds zipping by too fast to see, fleeting breezes lifted platinum strands of my hair. Tickling sensations crossed over the bare skin of my shoulders and feet. As delightful as it felt, a sinking feeling grew in me that it might be difficult to coax these lake spirits out from their new warm cave back into the water.

Something was coaxing Bruni. He passed beneath branches bowed under the weight of flickering fruit, to a sulfur-stained vent. I plugged my nose against the rotten-egg scent. Steam rose, and I realized the warmth of this cave did not come from its new inhabitants.

Bruni flicked out his tongue, snuffled, and eyed the vent with one side of his head then the other. The fire salamander, being so hot blooded, seems to enjoy basking in the cold. I expected as much when he turned tail to the source of steam. What did surprise me was his pallor. He had blanched almost white in fright.

I asked him what was wrong. Like the lake spirits, he was not inclined to reply. I took a cautious step toward the steam vent, wondering why it had upset a spirit. The sulfurous crevice seemed no different than those in the Valley of Living Rock.

“Elsa!” Olaf interrupted me with a fruit lifted to my face. Its magenta peel glimmered in circular patterns. “The spirits wanted you to have this.”

I asked if they had spoken to him.

“No, but they dropped this off a branch at your feet. You didn’t notice,” Olaf said. “What has been speaking to me is your rumble-belly. You’re hungry. Eat this.”

I want to assure you, Anna, I was cautious. I did not stuff the underworld fruit in my mouth. I showed it to Bruni first. He gave it a lick of approval. Then I ate only a bite. It tasted like licorice. On hour later when I did not get sick I tried more. It filled me with warmth. I thanked the lake spirits and Olaf.

During that time I did all I could to communicate. The lake spirits ignored everything I had to say. I told them I was the Fifth Spirit, and they took no notice. They only wanted to play. They would shake luminescent leaves until Olaf or I got close to the spot; then they would flit to the next. Their favorite sport seemed to be blowing the train of my gown over my head and into my face.

Waving away my gossamer, I had an idea. I told the spirits as best I could that if they wanted to play with me they would have to go outside. Taking Olaf by the twig, we raced up and down the rock stacks. Some of the pillars were square, others more pentagonal. I even found one with six sides.

All the while I felt the gazes of the lake spirits. But they did not venture forth. They stayed in the cave.

“Wish Anna could be here,” Olaf said. He sat on a stack, dangling his snowball feet over the black sand beach.

I agreed but told him you were busy being queen.

“What are we busy with?” Olaf asked.

What indeed.

To try to entice the lake spirits out, I painted the beach in curlicues of frost. I laid out a carpet of brilliant snow leading to the shore. I built up the broken rock stacks with columns of purest ice, leaving them all the same height. I did that last part for myself. No matter how we played on the beach, the lake spirits stayed in the cave.

I left them further behind, determined to show the spirits how much fun we could have on the lake. I skated with Olaf, until even I was tired. Our blades covered the ice with crisscrossing designs. I decorated the rest of the surface with frost lace.

The lake spirits stayed in the cave.

I rolled up a stretch of ice to give the spirits easy access to the water.

They stayed in the cave.

I built sculptures like sand castles but of snow. Olaf and I romped, huge among the tiny towers. Boulevards were our walkways within icy cities. I even made a miniature Arendelle. It took me days. As the moon came out and turned my creations silver, I set my hands on my hips with satisfaction. The lake spirits could enjoy exploring this for weeks.

Still they stayed in the cave.

The spirits were not the only ones to watch my work from afar. Townsfolk lined the shore. Bundled figures, they seemed unsure of me. I felt the same way. What was I doing? I had to restore the lake. I had promised them. Now I was at my wit’s end.

It hurts me to write this, Anna. I leveled my ice cities. I smoothed Svartgel’s surface. I purified its ice, removing every last bubble, turning it clear. That way, the lake spirits might find their home familiar. The task left me feeling unclean, and it released a reek. The ice now matched how it must have been in years past. In the end, the frozen lake lay pristine.

The spirits stayed in the cave.

I feel like a failure, and my fruitless efforts have destroyed everything that made Svartgel Lake special. If only it were as simple as a personal disaster, but my ineptness will have consequences for the townsfolk. How am I supposed to be an ambassador to the spirits when they do not care to reply? Except for Northerly, who storms her disappointment in thunder and lightning plain for all to see. 

I have no authority.

Anna, I do not know what to do. If you see a solution, let me know. I hope your endeavors are faring better in Arendelle.

Sincerely,

Elsa


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Elsa,  
> I am trying to be more honest. Let me come out and tell you my eyes are pricking with tears, and my quill is trembling. I am more than worried. I need you to understand that if you leave Olaf behind I’ll take it as a sign you’re in danger, and I swear I’ll leave Arendelle and all my responsibilities as queen to come after you.  
> Your Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always looking for suggestions for improvement and corrections for continuity errors. That said, Anna giving Kai and Gerda honorary titles isn't an error. Elsa will question it in the following letter.

Dearest Elsa,

When I received your letter I was so excited I hugged the nearest person, who was Gerda. I apologized for not asking her first, and for frumpling her dress. And for getting grease on it because I had spent all day with Olaf’s inventions and do you expect me to mope around while everyone else has fun with repairs? No way! But more on that later.

What a letter! If I wrote so much my hand would fall off. You’re generous with your words, and each is precious. Elsa, nothing is more valuable to me than your trust. You asked your younger sister for advice? This buzzy lightness I’m feeling must be bliss.

You confided how much clearing the lake ice upset you. I can see how that must have been terrible. I’m giving you a long-distance embrace right now. Can you feel its warmth?

Elsa, you didn’t destroy everything that made Svartgel Lake special. It still has its black-stone beach. It still has its mirror surface reflecting mountains, right? It still has its nearby column curiosity and cave, enchanted now with spirits. Who wouldn’t want to visit?

The townsfolk could encourage travelers and set up inns. Or, maybe they could put aside their fishing lines and start harvesting the fruit in the enchanted cavern. It must taste delicious. You could introduce them to the spirits. I can imagine the children loving to play games in the glowing garden. They could pick glow-berries and stain their chins with brightness. And just think of a magic-fruit pie in every oven, families full and smiling, no one crying. I know it might not work, but it’s worth trying.

What I wouldn’t count on is luring the spirits back into the lake, if you haven’t already. This may seem strange to you, but most people would rather stay where they are, even if elsewhere may be better. I do not wish to live anywhere but Arendelle. Yes, I am excited for my Grand Tour, but part of me would prefer dignitaries simply come here. That way, I would not have to leave my queendom behind.

I bet the spirits feel a little similar. They just went through the pain of moving from their lake, a place they no longer felt safe. Now they’re comfortable in a cave, and no amount of ice play will coax them into more uncertainty.

Thinking of your adventure at Svartgel makes me remember when mother took us ice fishing. She wouldn’t let us handle the saw, and I so wanted to thwack it to make music. Anyway, after cutting a hole she ~~built us an ice shelter~~. Wait, no. You told me that was you, with your magic.

Oh! Oh! This gives me a great idea. Or maybe it’s merely a good one. Fair at least, I hope. I will share, but I am trying to write this letter in proper order. Problem first, then solution.

Before I move on, I wanted to say how proud I am of you. You’re so determined. You tried everything to move the spirits. Yes, you feel disappointed. It did not end how you wanted. You may have to break your promise to the townsfolk, that you would return it all to how it was. You do love making big promises, but the people should care less about your words and more about their livelihoods. Guide them to the new marvels in their backyard, and all will be forgiven.

Maybe you fear your new spirit friend, Northerly, expected more. You also told me you have trouble communicating precisely with them. It could be Northerly never wished for you to bring the spirits back to the lake. If she did and blames you, then I think less of her. She doesn’t know you like I do.

Which is why I hope you will listen to me when I say I am worried. Your letter made it seem like you were ready to fly off without Olaf, alone with a strange spirit, Northerly. Yes, you had Bruni, but fire salamanders don’t count for company. Would Bruni---as cute as he may be---save you from going too far and too deep? If no, please keep Olaf close.

I am trying to be more honest. Let me come out and tell you my eyes are pricking with tears, and my quill is trembling. I am more than worried. I need you to understand that if you leave Olaf behind I’ll take it as a sign you’re in danger, and I swear I’ll leave Arendelle and all my responsibilities as queen to come after you.

Is this too direct? I do not mean it to sound like a threat, but I feel I must be clear. In my last letter, I wrote I hoped you would return to game night. Last Friday I was left pacing, fretting, wondering why, why, why you weren’t here. Elsa, I know you don’t love family games, but it’s not about games. It’s about family, and I have to see mine.

Elsa, I need you to come back for charades. 

There! I said it. Phew! ~~I am sweating.~~ That was hard, asking for something I need from someone I love. Already my stomach is tightening. I am afraid I’m being too demanding.

I do understand why you didn’t return, now that I’ve read your letter. You wanted to restore the lake. People were counting on you. You had made a promise to them. But again, the least important thing about game night is the gaming.

We’ll begin after sundown on Friday. I have to stay inside the palace after dark. Kai set me a curfew. It was part of the deal, since I’m spending every day as queen outside with my people. Can’t wait to tell you more about all the changes, but first I should finish this thought.

If it helps you, kindly make a promise to me. Strangers won’t much care if you break your promise, but your sister will. We are family, and families come together for charades. See you Friday.

* * *

So, I may make Oaken a lord. The ice-cutting engines he invented could revolutionize Arendelle. Remember how his prototype ran with the help of his pet mouse Lars spinning a little wheel? Well, now it’s all steam powered, and it seems no one knows steam better than Oaken. He’s thought about it plenty in his sauna.

He’s installed a new one in the palace, alongside his workshop. Oh, I thought he should do his inventing somewhere with stone walls that don’t burn. Whenever I hear a distant explosion and a “Hoo-hoo!” I smile, knowing Oaken is hard at work with Sorenson.

That’s right. I moved Sorenson the scientist into the palace, too. I figured we owed him after sorta maybe definitely getting his research ruined. He’s set up a telescope in the southwest tower. Did you know between the stars there are even smaller stars you can’t see? And there’s something like an aurora far away in the sky where stars grow up. I bet Olaf would love to talk with Sorenson. They’re such deep thinkers.

No, that’s not an invitation for you to leave Olaf behind in Arendelle.

Anyway, Sorenson and Oaken built a better ice engine. Well, really they built three, and last week I watched the machines rattle and chug across Leifur’s Lake. In no time we had a mountain of fresh-cut ice gleaming. The way Kristoff looked at them, they might’ve well been diamonds.

“We’re going to need a bigger sled,” Kristoff said. He added in Sven’s voice. “ _And I’m not pulling all that without help._ ”

“Is no problem, ja!” Oaken tapped his fingers together. “Spoke with a Vakretta refugee in my sauna about a new invention, the loco-motive. It moves lots of things fast, like my ice cutters.”

Apparently this machine is also powered by steam, and it runs on rails like mining carts. I’ve already ordered a path built for it from the mountains to the Arendelle docks. Kristoff and the rest of the former ice harvesters are now helping set down the iron tracks.

Stellen, Kristoff’s friend with the stutter and the golden beard, rested his hammer to wipe his brow. “I’m sorry to be off the ice on a d-day hot as this, but this is good manly work.”

“And womanly,” I said because I had wanted to try my hand at the hammers too. 

“S-sorry. Yes, Queen Anna. Do you think your sister will be impressed with all the ice we’re hauling?”

“And shipping overseas,” another man said. “Once all the profits come back to us, I’ll have enough to marry Elke.”

“Yes,” I said, “Arendelle is working together on this, and all will benefit. Everyone can wed. Maybe we should have a national Wedding Day.”

With that I skipped up and kissed Kristoff. He blushed beautifully while his friends all hooted in appreciation.

Elsa, you won’t believe the gift he gave to me this week. With Sven he carted a sapling into the palace courtyard. I thought it was a fruit tree, but as he pulled me near I smelled the richness of chocolate. A different treat weighed down each branch. He had attached the desserts to the tree with green ribbons.

KRISTOFF GAVE ME A CHOCOLATE TREE!

How did he know I’ve always wanted one? I danced with him beneath it. And the chocolate! Oh, it tasted of winter cheer close around the hearth fire, of lavish contentment, and of sweet promises kept.

I’m going to ask Gale to carry a piece for you to taste. If you see a smear on this letter, don’t worry. It’s only chocolate. Or ink. Or engine grease.

Your letters are so white they’re hard to look at in the sunlight. Held closer, they glitter. I had wondered if you had made them of ice. Then I found a puddle on my writing desk. That confirmed it. Maybe I should frame them in the kitchen’s ice vault. But what do you use for ink? I borrowed a magnifier from Sorenson, and it looks like your words are made of little dark crystals.

That reminds me. The ice engines burn coal. That leaves a black layer of soot on the snow. Sven licked a patch then spat it out. I don’t think Olaf would like it either. It’s not colorful. Was Olaf’s theory that technology would be the salvation and doom of us all? I’m not sure, but if it’s a problem we’ll simply have to solve it like all the others.

Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. I love Kristoff! Every time I look at him I feel my heart growing, strengthening, warming. I can’t wait to marry him and raise a family. Someday the palace will ring with the laughter of little Anna’s and Kristoff’s. You and I will teach them to build snowmen.

Sorry, Elsa. I’m done talking about romance now.

I wonder what I should tell you next. Perhaps about Tor, the older ice harvester who’s learning to guide Oaken’s machines. He’s the one who gave Kristoff his first lute.

“Never thought I would be on the ice like this,” Tor said, aged hand on a lever. “But cutting blocks by hand doesn’t do my back good anymore, and if these moving kettles make life better for Arendelle, I’m proud to do my part.”

“You’re doing Arendelle proud.” I adjusted my balance atop an ice engine. “Onward!”

Kristoff laughed from his spot at another machine. “You cut that last row straighter than me, Tor. You’re a natural.”

“Don’t think so.” He ran a hand down his snowy beard, getting a bit of grease in it. See, it’s not just me! “Doubt I would have anything to do with this, if you hadn’t asked, Your Majesty. Same for the lads. They never would’ve put down their ice saws for hammers if you hadn’t led them.”

“Following her always felt natural to me,” Kristoff said with a grin. 

I felt like leaping and singing, all a fizzing brightness. That’s what happens whenever I think I’ve made a difference for Arendelle, but just then atop the ice engine I had to be careful. I simply said, “All this extra ice will help the kingdom. We can ship twice as much to Queen Marisol in Eldora. It’s always summer there, and they will be happy to trade our ice for their spices and goods.”

Or, that’s what I thought. Imagine my distress the next day when Lord Kai brought the latest copy of the Village Crown. The headline read, “New Queen Threatens to Crash the Price of Ice.”

Kai cleared his throat with his signature polite cough. “Wale is trying to sell papers with that headline, but there’s some truth to it. Arendelle is now in a position to flood the markets with ice. Doing so will reduce the demand and the profits made off each shipment.”

Oaken was there too. “Big supply and demand problems, ya!”

“Wait,” I said, “you’re all looking at me like I’m supposed to know what to do. Uh oh.”

Lord Kai handed me another stack of papers to sign. “It is a difficult problem, My Queen.”

I won’t lie. It kept me up a few nights. My head ached with all the pounding responsibility. At the same time, being queen fills me with an excited bell tolling. I think of all I could do for Arendelle, of what I’ve already begun, and I’m so happy I could swoon. But I don’t. My eyes can’t stay closed that long.

While not sleeping, I got all the paperwork done. According to Kai’s report, we would gain “diminishing returns” on our ice surplus, unless I found new ways to use it. I had no idea what we could pursue, until I read the letter written by you.

* * *

Oops! I guess I fell asleep on my desk. Lady Gerda woke me at a time of day I don’t care to relay, and please disregard the discoloration on this letter. Hey, queens can drool too!

Anyway, I dashed out to blacksmith Ada’s shop. We figured out what she and her wife would need to build a loco-motive. I’m going to order them a bigger forge, get them more workers. Elsa, this is so exciting. Inside I feel like I’m blazing hot enough to smelt something.

The day flew by, and now I’m back in my office. As I said, my deal with Kai is that I go wherever I want during the daylight hours. You told me to be true to myself as queen. I truly did not like sitting on a throne. Instead of expecting people to line up to see me, I go out to them. Forcing petitioners to wait hours in line made my stomach feel tight and gross, like after eating too much at Florian’s Famous Flangendorfers. You can’t be late if you don’t make appointments! Now Lady Gerda keeps a list of those who wish to see me, and I visit as many as I can where they work, closer to the problem.

Arendelle’s big problem is how to use our wealth of ice. I’ve talked to a few people about it, and I’m feeling more confident. Before I say my idea, the one I got from reading your letter, I wanted to give you a chance to realize it yourself.

Do you have it now? Wonderful! I knew you would get it.

You’re the best sister.

Elsa, your letter brought to mind ice fishing. Fish taste best if they’re kept fresh on ice. That’s what we’ll do with the surplus. Arendelle will expand its fishing trade. We’ll build a fleet, sail far to sea, and preserve the catch with ice, in cold holds. Arendelle will be successful!

“It’s an ambitious plan, Your Majesty,” Lord Kai told me. “We will need to trade for more iron and timber. Arendelle will soon be in short supply.”

I was smiling. Then I saw Kai. “Why are you frowning? What’s the problem?”

“The nearest source of what we need is Weselton.”

“Oh leftover lutefisk!”

But don’t worry, sis. I got this.

Wishing you sweetness,

Your Anna

P.S.: I can’t bear to lie to you, even about something silly. Sven wasn’t the one who licked the black snow. Yes, it was me. No, it didn’t taste like chocolate. I know, I know. Sorry!


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Queen Anna,  
> Though I have no chocolate to send back as a gift, this letter will include something else you love: a mystery. It will tell of the fascinating phenomenon of the frozen bed.

Dear Queen Anna,

Your letter arrived intact on fine Southern Isles paper, only lightly stained. It left me torn. I wish to return home. I also promised the snowmen to meet them. They await me now, on the coast of the Dark Sea, for safe passage to Ahtohallan. In the meantime, while I ponder my best course of action, I will write. 

I ate the chocolate you sent. Thank you! It may have slightly melted, but it still tasted of peppery spices, sweetness, and generosity. Though I have no chocolate to send back as a gift, this letter will include something else you love: a mystery. 

You see, a block of ice appeared every night in the marriage bed of newlyweds. No one knew how it got there, and the wife was close to despair. The risqué nature of this tale made it spread as fast as scandal, and the apparent involvement of magic carried it even further.

“I’ve heard of an engaged man getting cold feet,” one of the townsfolk told me, “but never icy sheets.”

“Their marriage is cursed,” an older man said, across the banquet table in the town’s great hall. “What I want to know is who done the cursing? A house spirit? An immigrant witch? Even wondered if it had been Arendelle’s Snow Queen. Begging your pardon, Your Ladyship.”

“Yes, no one is accusing you,” the Mayor was quick to add. She lifted a glass glowing with juice fresh squeezed from magic fruit. “Now that we’ve had the privilege of your acquaintance it’s clear you wouldn’t stoop to such petty mischief. Raise your glass to Lady Elsa, the _Fourth Spirit_.”

She meant the Fifth Spirit, naturally. I did not correct her. I was too relieved.

Anna, you saved us all. I took your advice and led the townsfolk around Svartgel Lake to the cavern. The spirits welcomed them and were all too happy to share their bounty. The fruit will get the town through the winter. The Mayor has chosen trusty men and women to pick and guard the magical trees.

Thank you, dear sister. Your letter pulled me from a frozen chasm. I had felt desolate. I had even considered commanding the cavern spirits back into the lake, overpowering their wills, in a form of enslavement. It was a dark movement. As the Fifth Spirit I am the spirits’ ambassador, not their master. I had forced myself to set the disgraceful thought aside, without a better option. Then your message came.

I could see hope again. The glitter of my ice returned.

Boyant, I flew away on the back of Northerly’s storm. Do not worry. Olaf was with me. This letter will resume with my arrival at a village by name of Sheepheim, and it will tell of the fascinating phenomenon of the frozen bed. 

* * *

We swooped between mountains snow-capped and ice-bottomed with frozen lakes. At first Northerly veered in another direction. She wished to go elsewhere, but my curiosity percolated into her, if not my exact words, and we headed toward Sheepheim. Behind us in the valleys, we trailed storm. 

With a map the Mayor had given me, we found the village. It huddled beneath a cliff, rooftops laden with snow and chimneys leaking mist. Northerly did not circle down gradually. She plummeted, and Olaf shrieked in glee. My stomach squeezed into my throat, making me feel fit to choke.

I prefer riding the water horse. I kept that to myself, of course.

Northerly swooped back into the sky, leaving Olaf and me on an empty street. I felt awkward, but Olaf wasted no time knocking on the first door. “Hi, I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!”

A man with a sheepskin cap blinked down. “Whose child are you? And what’s that coat you're wearing?”

“No, this isn’t wool. It’s snow.” Olaf twirled on one foot. “And I’m not a child anymore. I can read. I have studied geology. And I know after we’re long decayed into dust, this glacial valley will endure almost unchanged for millennia. So how about that hug?”

The villager had spotted me. His eyes widened. “By thunder, it is you! The Snow Queen. You come to curse me too? And this is your creature?”

I told him Olaf was my friend. We had come to investigate the curious case of the cold bed.

“It’s a right injustice, that’s what it is,” the villager said. “Aksel is a good god-fearing man, even if it is the Christian one.”

The villager pointed us to another cottage down the lane. He then followed, knocking on other doors as we came. By the time we reached the house, half the village was watching. Olaf did find someone who wanted to hug, a girl with a gap-toothed grin.

This time I knocked. I felt many gazes burning at my back.

The woman opened the door with a sour expression. Her face curdled when she saw me and all the rest. A blush blotched her cheeks, with near bruises under her eyes from poor sleep.

I may have flushed a little too. Again, Olaf was the first to speak.

“Is your bed full of ice? That sounds lovely! But only if the ice is soft and fine and is really snow.”

“Don’t know what you heard,” the woman said. “But it’s not true. It’s just plain meanness, it is. Married a mean man.”

“She’s a liar,” someone shouted. “Aksel is a hard worker.”

“Always did right by her,” another man added.

The woman yelled back, her face turning even patchier. “What would you wool-heads know!”

I introduced myself as the Fifth Spirit.

Everyone looked at me blankly.

“She’s an ice _adept_ ,” Olaf said. “That means expert.” 

“Ah,” the woman said, “bet you’ll know if something is magic or not? Good. Then maybe they’ll believe me.”

She retreated into the cottage and left the door open for me to follow. It was a cozy sod home and warm with animal heat. The woman stepped over two sheep on her way to the bed. Over the plain wood frame hung a cross.

“Useless,” the woman said. “Happens ever night, the ice.”

The straw mattress looked damp and smelled of mildew. I asked the woman how quickly the ice melted, and for her name.

“Maja. I’m Maja. Sorry, I’m out of sorts.” She winced, looked toward her feet, and wiped her nose. “No, don’t think it’s melted yet. Aksel throws them out. You’ll find last night’s outside to the right. I’m staying here. Not facing them again.”

Olaf remained inside to comfort Maja while I searched outdoors for the ice block. I found it just where she said. It was anything but a perfect square. If it were hail, it would be the biggest piece you had ever seen, but neither was it a sphere. Glistening in the sun, it had melted, but I could still guess its original shape.

Its flat section likely had formed beneath the blankets. I had seen them stripped off the bed, hanging to dry. Otherwise, the ice bulged like a white tuber. I could tell it had formed quickly, not the beautiful crystal of lake ice frozen over days. It felt a mess. You may know that uncomfortable feeling when your room is a mess? Perhaps you would not. Anyway, this was slush ice, similar to what I had cast in a panic that time a polar bear charged us.

An older man peered over my shoulder. “Is it true, ya think? Does Aksel sneak it inside every night? ‘Cause ice is warmer company than his shrew wife?”

No, I told them the icy mass must have manifested within the bed. I knew that was true because a stray bit of straw bedding was frozen within.

I turned the ice over. A concavity on the other side gave me an idea. I placed my wrist and hand within its smoothness. They did not fit, but part of a foot might.

This ice had grown overnight, around a human leg.

Bruni scampered down my arm to lounge in the ice. The magenta diamond pattern on his back appeared dark in this day’s overcast light.

A villager jerked back. “Is---is that a fire salamander?”

I smiled and confirmed it. Bruni is an elemental spirit, a greater one, and visible to all. A shier house spirit may hide unseen.

The gap-toothed girl giggled. “That’s what’s icing the bed? A house spirit?”

Maybe, though I had not sensed one. I promised the crowd I would find out, and I went back inside.

My eyes adjusted to the darker interior. I was surprised to see Maja had taken off her boots.

“See what he’s done to me feet? Ouch!” Maja massaged her toes. They were all red and swollen, except for two. Those were purple. They looked like they had been slammed in a door.

I felt sorry for her.

Olaf peered at her toes. “Do you feel more philosophical? Birta Bluetoes had frostbite and wrote her treatise while recovering.”

“What I feel is pain.” Maja cringed, pressing the heel of her hand over one eye. “Can you heal me, miss?”

I admitted that I could not, though her toes did not look frostbitten. Their rosy color was a good thing, considering. Chilblains were painful, but they would heal. After some hesitation in which I searched for the most tactful words, I asked how many nights had she woken up to find ice in her bed.

“Not for the last several. I’ve been sleeping in the byre. With the animals. And Aksel has what he wants now, a whole bed to himself.”

I leaned over it. I even poked through some of the moldy hay, but there were no spirits there.

Maja had a right to be upset. A mess of ice kept appearing in her marriage bed. She blamed her husband for it and seemed to think he snuck it under the blankets to spite her. But then, I asked, why would he keep bringing the ice, night after night, when she had long left?

“To keep me from coming back,” she said. “That’s plain. And maybe to look less guilty.”

Olaf leaped onto the bed. “I know! I’ll do a stakeout. Hide under the blankets and see who is making the ice. Here, can you see me?”

He had covered himself with a few wisps of hay and was still very clearly a talking snowman arranged like a throw-pillow. I searched over the house for something less obvious, another spirit. All the while I feared I was on the wrong track. If a spirit lived here, I should sense it.

“Can’t be a house spirit,” Maja said. “We treat them right. Throw a crumb to every corner like is right and proper.”

Not every house has its own spirit, a húsvættir. I was beginning to think this one did not. But then what had brought the ice into being? Or who? I did not expect to find another person like me. I am content with that. I know myself, and that is enough.

I am the sky soaring limitless above unblemished snow. I am the sapphire blue of a glacier. I am your sister.

What I was not just then was sure I knew the answer. I thought Aksel’s return would make it obvious, but when he did it was still a puzzle.

He had a sense of a spirit, though not in appearance. The man looked as most do. Tallish, he did not slouch so much as lean. He was haggard, true, like his wife. He also had a similar motley blush when I asked about the ice.

“Sorry,” Aksel stammered. “I---I wish you hadn’t come all this way, My Lady. It’s nothing.”

“It certainly is something,” his wife shouted.

I had to agree with her. About him he had a glimmer. It was not something I could point to for others to see, but he possessed a whiff of the otherworldly.

Olaf peered up at him. “Do you have very cold dreams?”

“I am sorry.” He fiddled with his collar. “Don’t know what is happening. It isn’t my fault. Didn’t mean any harm.”

His tone spoke otherwise. His words throbbed with guilt. I could understand why his wife blamed him. The man sounded as if he did know what was wrong and had meant to harm, though his apology also sounded genuine. I was uncertain what to make of it, or of him. Even Bruni seemed to recognize something special about Aksel. The salamander always kept at least one eye on him.

Choosing my words delicately, I told the couple I would try to help them. First, we would have to perform an experiment. Tonight, we would try a reversal. Maja must sleep in the bed. Aksel would take the byre.

Neither one seemed keen about the arrangement. Maja looked close to crying. “If I wake up with my toes icy again, I---I can’t bear it. That’s what.”

I reassured her I did not think that would happen.

She groused. The villagers outside grumbled. They had wanted to see me dispel a curse with magic right then. To satisfy them, I created an intricate ice sculpture of a sunflower, wearing a stylized crown. I explained how you were the new queen of Arendelle. Believe it or not, they did not know where our kingdom was. But strangely enough, they had heard of me.

Anna, thank you for giving me the chance in your letter to guess the solution: using our surplus ice in fishing boats for refrigeration. I succeeded in solving it. Summoning ice to benefit the fishing trade was something I considered. Maybe I should have, though you did admonish me to not rely on my magic for everything. Now you and Oaken have discovered a way to do it without me. 

I am extending you the same courtesy, giving you a chance to solve this mystery. You may well guess it in part. Discerning it entire would be rather more difficult. I only realized the full truth after deliberating most of the night. I am no Nansina Drude from your books, but I do have something of an affinity for all things ice. To make it at all fair, I will give you a hint in the next paragraph.

When we were preparing for my Grand Tour, Olaf was excited to visit the country of Zaria and its renowned house made of glass. It lets sunlight in but keeps its heat from getting out. In this green-house you could grow flowers all year round. Olaf could achieve his dream of having an endless summer. I hope you will get the chance to visit such a green-house on your Grand Tour.

There, Anna, I will give you a moment to consider. On the next page I will reveal the answer to the intriguing incident of the icy bed.

* * *

I caught Aksel trying to sneak out of the cottage before dawn. He was carrying another mess of ice, this one nearer to a sphere.

He started at the sight of me and made a sound rather close to a squeak. His eyes fell to the frosty globe in his hand then back to me. Yes, he was blushing ferociously.

I asked if he had slept in the byre last night, as he had promised.

“That I did, missus,” he said.

I guessed that the ice had not appeared in the bed this time.

“No, it didn’t.”

I took it from him and turned it over. One side had a similar indentation to yesterday’s. I deduced that this ice had formed around his foot.

He sighed and nodded. “My right one. It’s always the right.”

I asked him if that was the same leg with which he had stepped in a spirit’s ice garden.

His head shot up. “How did you---ah---but I supposed you would know. It was wrong. I knew it was. Did it by mistake, at first. Was running after the sheep. Heard a crack and saw I had broken the ice over a depth hoar.”

Anna, we never called it that, but the name amounts to the same thing. Spirits can protect a patch of their garden with a cover of ice. Like a greenhouse, it keeps plants green through winter. Like a frozen lake, life below the ice can still flourish. Do you remember the crystal garden we found when I was six? A family of wildflowers looked cozy under the ice.

Not all spirits are like the earth giants, protecting the entire Enchanted Forest. Some simply tend to a square foot of dirt, nurturing it, loving it, and cursing the man who stepped in it.

“Knew it was bad luck to put your foot in a depth hoar,” Aksel said. “It was just one rotten turn after another. Everything was going wrong with Maja. We were still childless.”

Now I was feeling uncomfortable.

“And of all the places for me to put me foot, it was there. I got so angry. I---forgive me---but I stomped it. Ground every last flower under my boot heel. Buried every last leaf with ice.”

I took a step back at this, as it was rather more violent than I expected. It did explain the guilt so obvious in his voice the day before. He had earned his misfortune, at least in part. My heart went out more to the spirit, whose world he had shattered. It may not have even cursed him intentionally but simply clung to his leg. That was what gave Aksel a mystical air.

“Why won’t it leave off?” Aksel asked. “I’ve brought it back to its spot. Even went barefoot on the snow for it.”

Its garden will have already died, I explained. We must help it start another.

Together, we scrounged the village for growing seeds. One neighbor with a garden full of cloudberries was only too delighted to give us a few. By then, most everyone was following us, happy as if it were a holiday. The crowd watched and hooted as Aksel stripped off his boot. Yes, the odor was unpleasant, but I was more concerned with the spirit.

I coaxed the frightened being onto my hand. Again, it could not be seen so much as felt as a tingling. It seemed less angry than scared. The poor dear, it might not have not created a block of ice every night to spite the man but as a desperate attempt to start a new garden. Unlike the cave spirits, this one was searching for a new home.

We made it one. Bruni melted the snow with a flash of magenta fire. Aksel planted the cloudberry seeds, and I was ready to cover the earth with a small ice dome.

“They’ll be growing in no time,” a villager said. “A little treasure trove of golden berries.”

I whispered to the spirit that its garden would soon be splendid. It must have believed me. When I touched my fingertips to the moist dirt I felt the spirit let go and burrow.

Standing up, I said it was done.

The villagers cheered. Aksel actually cried in relief.

What I did in Sheepheim may make no great difference in the large scale of things, yet it felt satisfying. I have now resolved two conflicts between spirits and people, the first time in large thanks to you.

Anna, you are making changes in Arendelle on a much larger scale. When Oaken demonstrated his ice engine, I assumed it would mean the ice harvesters would not have to work as hard. Now they are working harder, preparing for the loco-motive.

This is exactly the sort of thing I expected you to do as queen. I find it both surprising and exciting. If I am reading your last letter correctly, you also gave lordly titles to both Kai and Gerda. Again, I would not have thought of that, though both deserve commendation after decades of service to the kingdom.

Before I make too many guesses about your reasoning behind these changes, I would love to hear your motivation. You can tell me in person. That may be best for a serious discussion. Yes, I am coming home. I will deliver this letter myself.

I regret having to leave the snowmen waiting. Gale has agreed to carry them my apology for the delay. My worry is that I may not be able to go to them next. I had to promise Northerly I would travel where she willed, as otherwise she would have refused to carry me back to Arendelle for something as trivial as charades. She would have stormed away in impatience.

Thankfully, I am now traveling back to you, Anna, at storm speed.

Sincerely,

Elsa


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Elsa,  
> Your letter surprised me, and I’m not talking about the mystery. You wrote you wanted to talk about Arendelle’s changes. But Friday night mostly what I heard from you was silence.  
> Your Anna

Dearest Elsa,

Your letter surprised me, and I’m not talking about the mystery. Yes, I loved it. No, I didn’t solve the case of the frozen bed, at least not completely. I expected a spirit, but you deduced it. Wow! You’re a true sleuth. Imagine the spirit’s new ice garden filling with golden berries. It makes me do a little dance of happiness in this chair.

At the end of your letter, it says you wanted to talk about Arendelle’s changes. But Friday night mostly what I heard from you was silence. That makes some sense. The wind outside was loud. We were playing charades, but why didn’t you bring it up if you were curious? Now I’ll have to wait and wonder for days.

Sorry, I forgot I hadn’t told you about making Kai and Gerda nobility. An official title gives their decisions more weight, and I am doing my best to delegate. Everything is better when people work together. Lord Kai and Lady Gerda have served one king and two queens. They have deep understanding of everything Arendelle needs. When they agree, that’s good enough for me. Only the times they’re at odds or uncertain will I step in and make a decision.

By trusting them with the realm’s day-to-day operations I’m free to focus on our future. I want to give our people more, to make their lives better than ever before. You meant to ask about the motivation behind my plans for industrialization? A wealthier queendom will give us the funds for a school system, for a hospital and more vaccinations. We’ll be able to pay off Arendelle’s debt. Why didn’t you tell me we had that? Lord Kai has also been dropping hints about the benefits of a national mint.

That reminds me. I bought a new kind of chocolate. A merchant sailed it here from Chato, and it’s mint. Oh, Elsa, you have to try it. Gale will carry you a piece. I’m worried the coconut shavings will come unstuck in the box, but eat them together. When I taste this chocolate I’m transported. It’s fresh spring, bright summer, crisp autumn, and cozy winter seasons all baked into one.

Now where was I? Ah yes. General Mattias told me a stronger queendom will give us the power to self-determine. The nation that created the wonder of the mint chocolate is being attacked by the Southern Isles. Weselton and Vakretta are also at war, and Arendelle is stuck in the middle. I worry without more security our neighbors will stop sending ambassadors and start deploying armies.

That’s why I’m moving forward to secure resources. I have extended an invitation to Weselton for a royal emissary. Our embargo of their nation has deep costs. I learned that from talking with refugees and other people at the docks.

“Lumber sat there rotting in the mill,” a man with grey whiskers said. “Saws were silent. No point in cutting it. The captains would lose money shipping the boards as far as Eldora. No work, and nothing for us to eat but moss.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, guiding him and his family toward a soup kitchen.

“Yes,” his wife said, holding their spindly boy close. “And we left before our son could be drafted.”

“The Duke of Weselton is forcing men to join the army,” Mattias said. He guards me during the day. “And I suppose, taller boys.”

“And I thought his dancing was aggressive,” I said.

In my invitation I made it clear the Duke himself would not be welcome to Arendelle. I wonder who will come in his stead. I’ll finish this letter after I know, but for now, I wanted to mention how much I loved seeing you.

You appeared glittering on the balcony like an aurora. You smelled of mountain breezes. You seemed distant yet delightfully close with your embraces.

Elsa, I know part of you felt like you should be somewhere else. I appreciate you coming nonetheless. No one but my sister would’ve understood my charade of a spruce. I still think we should’ve gotten double points for that one. C’mon! It wasn’t just a pine tree but a particular variety.

I do not care that we lost to the boys again. You seemed distracted, like that game night you were hearing voices. Were you thinking of your other obligations? Is that why you forgot to ask about my rule of Arendelle?

I forgot a thing or two I wanted to tell you. Can you guess what Kristoff said to me? He wants to marry in your ice palace. Well, he said, “an ice palace,” not yours specifically, but then, how many can there be?

Think of the ceremony. How fantastic to imagine candlelight reflecting off all the facets. You could walk me down the crystal stairs. Could Kristoff and I learn to dance on skates? I can’t wait!

But I have too. Stability is Arendelle’s priority. Once war no longer threatens, I will have the peace to think of our wedding. I’ve daydreamed of it so many times, me trailing my veil on a garden swing reaching toward the groom who is on a swing of his own, of us sledding down a hill while everyone throws flowers, of my bridesmaids and I swimming in chocolate fountains. Hmmmm! Some of those ideas were from when I was very young.

Kristoff also looked a touch embarrassed. “I don’t know anything about royal weddings. But I’m sure I like ice, and I love you. Getting married in an ice palace feels natural.”

That’s when my heart overflowed. I felt gravity tip me forward and pull me toward him for a hug.

My sword hilt hit him first. Kristoff let out an “Oof!”

Did I not tell you about Revolute? I’ve taken to wearing the family blade on my hip. I unbuckle it in the evenings. That’s why you didn’t see the sword while we were gaming. If you had, I am sure you would’ve asked questions.

Ada Diaz reforged the heirloom. Now it’s strong, and that’s what I want people to see in me. Everyone knows Queen Elsa had her ice. They shouldn’t think I’m defenseless. But there’s a deeper reason I wear Revolute. When Arendelle was in peril---when we needed something legendary to defeat the Nattmara---cold steel failed. Weaponry did not save the day. What pulled us through was sisterly love. Victory came from connecting people, not killing.

I wear this sword as a reminder that war is not the answer.

No, I am not sure a blade is the best way to remember. At least I can reassure you I am not likely to hurt myself. I began the sword lessons to try to be less clumsy, and I continue them with General Mattias, in the evenings after my curfew.

This week he said, “Your balance is getting better, Your Majesty.”

“Really?” I was happy enough I forgot the next stance in the fighting routine. “I’ve noticed I bump into fewer people, but maybe they are more careful around a queen.”

“And get out of your way? No, you are improving,” Mattias said. At the end of the lesson, he admitted, “I have an important breakfast…meeting with someone tomorrow. Say, if you were an older woman who ran an inn, what sort of gift would you like?”

“Are you saying you’re going on a date? Oh, yay!”

“Your Majesty, please sheathe your sword before you start skipping.”

But even with Revolute safely at my belt, I rammed the pommel into poor Kristoff by mistake. Next chance I get, I’ll lead with the other hip. I apologized with a kiss.

Kristoff asked, “Is that a yes? We can get married surrounded by ice?”

I admit when he said it I felt a prick of jealousy. Yes, of you and your powers. If I could I would make Kristoff a new ice sculpture every hour. Sometimes I wonder why you two aren’t together. ~~Your hips swing wider, and you’re taller.~~ You both love ice and exploring outdoors.

Then I remember I’m the one in Kristoff’s arms, and he proposed to me. That one itch of jealousy vanishes in a cascade of bliss. I am sorry I ever thought of it. I know it’s ridiculous to fear you would seduce Kristoff, or any man. Your description delighted me in your last letter of the husband.

“The man looked as most do.”

That was worth a good minute of laughter. I remember when pressed, the most you could think to say of Kristoff was that he was blonde. Please describe every man you meet. I could use a treat.

Elsa, you’re different from me, with other priorities. Thank goodness!

Now I see I’ve written over a page about romance. I apologize again. But I should return to Kristoff’s question. Would I consent to marrying him in an ice palace?

I had never imagined that, which is surprising considering all the ceremonies I had dreamed up. Elsa, did I ever talk as a kid about marrying in an igloo or ice gazebo? Perhaps I lost the memory, when I was cured by Grand Pabbie.

What I am certain of is I’ve always wanted something I now feel guilty for asking. Simply thinking of it is enough to make me burst into a song here. Would you be my maid of honor? Elsa, can you help plan my wedding? I know you have your own responsibilities, but please.

Instead of charades, we could meet weekly to organize. Kristoff and I have not set an official date, though longer than a year seems an unbearable time for me to wait. I would want a summery ceremony, along with an orchard of chocolate trees. Forgive me! Patience has never been my strength.

Sometimes I feel I have so few. Strengths, I mean. And you have so many. Your poise, your reserve. You can hold so much deep and hidden, like an iceberg. What were you keeping from me on game night? Part of me fears it was resentment. But of what?

I should put down my pen now, before my worst thoughts grow any wilder and hairier. Goodnight, Elsa.

* * *

I made a new friend! And someday she’ll also be a queen.

A duchess, I mean.

“May I present Her Eminence, eldest daughter of the Duke of _Weselton_.” Lord Kai pronounced the word deliberately, while throwing a wink at me. We both knew what he meant. “High Lady Agata Jagienka Victoria.”

The Duke’s daughter looked as different from him as you can imagine, and not at all like a weasel. She filled her dark dress, voluptuous. Broad smile, conquering eyes, and long stride. Her personality filled the room, a giantess.

“My duke father forbade my coming to Arendelle,” she said. “So I wasted no time setting sail. Is it true? Your sister is a fearsome sorceress?”

She sounded so hopeful I could not bear to disappoint her. “Oh yes! Only last night Elsa flew away on the back of a great stormy owl.”

“Marvelous!”

I got a better look at her dress. An intricate monument of lace, with sweeping sleeves, and grand designs, it reminded me of a cathedral, but all in black.

Her curtsy was practiced and elegant. “We both know my father gave offense to your sister queen and your kingdom, and for that I offer no excuse. However, what you may not know is that he also gave Arendelle a great boon.”

“In what sense?” I asked.

“He told all the lords across the land---anyone who would listen---about your sister’s deadly magic. Irresistible, he said.”

This I had not considered. Arendelle could be safer than I feared because of you. This is one more reason for me to be grateful.

“My ducal father even raved,” the would-be duchess said, “that Queen Elsa could lock an entire fleet in ice. Ha! The King of the Southern Isles even believed him, although something so fanciful cannot be true.”

“It is true. She froze the whole fjord. And the King of the Southern Isles would know. His youngest brother…ah, was here.”

“Ohhh! Say no more.” She took another step closer, shadowing me. “Queen Anna, please, my friends call my Victoria. Everyone else calls me Duchess Heir Apparent.”

“A pleasure, Victoria. I’m Anna.”

This close, I noticed more. Victoria’s smile showed signs of strain. The lace of her dress was frayed. She smelled of dust and desperation.

I invited her to the portrait gallery. Surrounded by my oldest friends, I felt ready. “Victoria, my sister embargoed Weselton, and for good reason. But isolation hurts both our queendoms.”

“It does,” she said. “Your feud is not with Weselton’s people but their lord.”

“Your father,” I said.

“My father,” she agreed. “Who has ruled long enough.”

“Perhaps we could find common…Wait. What?” I was surprised to find her so disloyal.

Victoria looked over her frilly shoulder. We were alone, except for all the pictures. “The Duke of Weselton will be happier once he retires.”

“Yes, maybe he could spend more time dancing.”

“The trouble is, he will not step down while we are at war.”

“Then,” I said, “we must broker a peace.”

“Father started the war because we could no longer trade.”

I finished the thought. “And we cannot lift the embargo until the war stops.”

“Thus is our quandary.”

I like her, Elsa. She speaks hard truths but feels soft when hugged. She has a bubbly personality, though since she wears all black perhaps I should think of her as a bubbling cauldron. We dined together that evening, and I asked who she was mourning.

“You are referring to my gown, yes? I merely believe black is the most regal color. Coincidentally, my people are dying en masse as we speak. Do you have coffee?”

After Victoria was settled in her guest rooms, I consulted with Kai and Gerda alone.

Lord Kai adjusted his silk cravat. “There is a way forward, though the Duchess Heir Apparent had too much tact to say it. You could drop the embargo outright, with no concession from _Weselton_.”

“And forgive the man who tried to murder my sister.” I do not recall my tone of voice when I said this, but it forced Lady Gerda to step back.

Lord Kai rested a hand on my shoulder. “The Duchess Heir Apparent seems to want Arendelle to support her power bid. She would be indebted to us, if you can trust her to pay you back with kindness.”

I was inclined to trust her, but my first impressions have been wrong before. That’s why I asked Kristoff to help her disembark, to see how she would treat people outside the palace. He told me all about it.

“Loaded her luggage on my sled,” he said. “Offered her hand when she walked down the gangplank.”

“And?” I asked.

“She was not at all unsteady. But she took my arm anyway and smiled. She asked if I was one of Arendelle’s famous ice harvesters. Well, the word she used was ‘renowned.’”

“Ha! Was she flirting with you?” I poked Kristoff in the rib.

“Oh no! I don’t think so?” He blushed a lovely shade of red. “Anyway, what I was saying was that she didn’t look down her nose at me. She could’ve too. She was tall enough. And she said Sven was a ‘fine specimen.’ I offered her a chance to feed him a carrot. She did and even took a bite.”

“She didn’t!”

“From a different carrot, but yes.” He patted the reindeer between the antlers then spoke for him. “ _The duchess has good taste._ ”

I stood up from where we had met in the stables. “She isn’t a duchess yet, but she will be if I have anything to say about it.”

Later, in the more formal meeting place of my office, Gerda rested a gloved hand over her heart. “We should consider Lady Elsa’s feelings in this matter.”

“Yes, I will reach out to her by letter.” And so I have.

Elsa, would you forgive me for forgiving Weselton?

Doing so would give Arendelle more options. I know the Duke intended you harm. Though you abdicated, I will respect your wishes whether or not we should move on.

May your mornings be full of gentle snowfall,

Your Anna

P.S.: I didn’t solve the mystery of the frozen bed, but I figured out why you were so distant. When flying to game night, you must have stopped by the mountain lakes and seen the ice engines. Olaf mentioned a black snowball. Did you smell the coal? It does leave a certain grittiness in the air. Or was it the tracks leading downhill, or the new forge in town? I am not sure what, but something made you upset. Then, instead of talking to me about it, you shut it in and locked it up. Elsa, I fear you don’t like the way I’m ruling. I worry you were too polite to say it outright. It hurts for me to think it and more to write. I hoped to earn your approval. Now my quill trembles, and it feels like a knife I’m holding on the wrong end. My doubts sharpen. What if I’m the clumsy queen the Village Crown expected me to be? I know you left only days ago, Elsa, but I already yearn for your return.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Queen Anna,  
> My silence caused you grief, and for that I am sorry. Were I stronger or better at being the Fifth Spirit I may have known what to say and how to speak it. At the time the best I could manage was silence.  
> Sincerely,  
> Elsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the second half of the seventh letter and uploaded both together. If you read the first half last week, no need to reread it. I only fixed a few typos.

Dear Queen Anna,

My silence caused you grief, and for that I am sorry. Were I stronger or better at being the Fifth Spirit I may have known what to say and how to speak it. At the time the best I could manage was silence.

I want you to rule as you, and so I held my concerns in. You should be a queen of joyous abandon and not governed by your sister’s nameless fears. You wear the crown and should not be pulled down by the doubts of she who abdicated.

Should you ask for counsel, I would tell you. Had I been certain of my concerns, I could have shared them. What I had was an ill feeling without understanding. I could not organize my concerns amidst the charades. All I could achieve was not spoiling the night, or at least so I tried.

Yes, on the way to see you, Northerly and I dipped down, and we flew above the ice engines. The smoke made me choke, and the great stormy owl turned dark. Gasping, I explained to Olaf how you were burning coal to power greater efficiency, but he need not worry. No matter how much fuel you might require, he could keep his wardrobe.

Olaf plucked off two of his black buttons, holding them in either hand. “I would gladly give my coal to heat up winter.”

I should have liked to continue our conversation, but I could only cough. Even if I could have spoken, I would not have been heard over Northerly’s fury. The great stormy owl reacted to Arendelle with violence. She sleeted a bitter cold. She wailed a ferocious wind.

Her wintry ferocity leaked inside me. My link with spirits meant I shared an emotion I did not understand. Yes, the coal smoke was unpleasant, but so is the fume from a wood fire, something we have burned for generations. Neither did Northerly’s acrimony lessen as we descended into the kingdom. She raged above rooftops and blustered throughout the night. You even noticed it within the palace.

I tried to communicate, to understand what had upset her. It is hard, Anna. Imagine hearing someone repeating over and over the single word “waste.” You are not certain if they mean a squandering, or a land gone to ruin, or an army laying another to waste. It sounds ominous, but the more you hear it repeated, the less you are sure it is a word. It begins to resemble nonsense, a white noise, a blizzard within you that blows without meaning. 

_Waste, waste, waste._

That feeling stormed in me throughout our charades. I could not concentrate. Do not take it personally. I will relay a coherent message once I have formed one. To that end, after our evening I visited Grand Pabbie.

Northerly swooped into the Valley of Living Rock. The trolls greeted me with their typical affection avalanche. I feel they are a bit much.

“Welcome, Elsa! Welcome!” Bulda thumped me benevolently. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen your hair so disordered.” 

A few strands had blown loose during my flight. I told her I needed some questions answered. Grand Pabbie rolled in with a scrape of granite, and I voiced my fears. He leant a stone ear.

“Princess Elsa,” he said, waving me to sit down on a stone. I checked twice to make sure it was not another troll. “Your spirit friend and I may share the same concerns. Humans seem willing to change the world, even at their own peril.”

Sitting brought me to his eye level. I asked him what he meant.

“This building of rail roads across the land, this burning of coal, it may change Arendelle. Almost every human generation changes life for the ones that come after. Did you know, once the forest here was much greater?”

I did know that. These trees are now mostly second growth.

From his outstretched hands, a glowing aurora of pink shot through with green shoots. The visionary trees then toppled with a rush of red. “Humans cut the woods down to build and to burn. And long ago, when your people lived more simply, they hunted mammoth bears.”

That I had never heard.

Grand Pabbie’s gleaming vision changed to show men and women with spears circling a fanged hulk. “Humans lived on the meat, until the bears went extinct. Then your people had to find a new way to stay alive, which meant more changes.”

I asked him then what was to be done.

The power of the aurora withdrew back into him. “Princess Elsa, that is something you must decide on their own. I can only say that we trolls try to leave our home alone. We came to this valley for a reason. We love it as it is.”

I mentioned the Northuldra live without changing their land, from what I understand.

He nodded. “Then they have succeeded in changing themselves.”

Nearby, Olaf was rolling around with troll children. Pine needles hissed on their trees. Northerly was still blowing over the high fields of lichen and down into the Valley of Living Rock. Bruni left a heat trail as he pattered over boulders.

Olaf and the young trolls played a game with the fire salamander. He would blaze magenta, and they would roll over the flames, extinguishing them. I found myself grinning. I had much to worry about, but I would enjoy this moment.

“Weee! I’m winning.” Olaf divided himself into parts to tumble over three flames at once.

“Not fair!” Little Rock laughed and tried to catch up.

Bruni was in fine form and at full fire. His bright tongue poked out as he zipped about. He slowed only to watch how the others would react to his burning lines.

Olaf’s legs started running downhill, the wrong way. His middle section got stuck in a steam vent and would have melted at once, if not for my permafrost. His head rolled to a stop, without a body to support it. “Elsa, have you seen my butt?”

I helped Olaf collect himself. Pulling his middle out of the steam vent, I felt my nose wrinkle. That was the same sulfurous stench I had smelled in the cave. I looked to Bruni, to see how the fire spirit would behave.

The salamander had tired out the trolls and was looking for more to explore. He zigzagged across the valley in a blue flash, a brightness between boulders. Watching him loosened the tightness in my shoulders.

He stopped stiff next to a steam vent. He gave it one sniff. Bruni bolted, hiding beneath my dress. His fiery little feet tickled their way up my leg and onto my knee.

I cupped him in my palm. He had acted in the same curious way as he had in the spirit cave. Before I went further, I wanted to learn more.

“Ah, this land has a heart of fire.” Grand Pabbie tapped his pebbly fingers together. The crystals he wore tinkled and glowed lichen-green. “That is why snow melts around geysers. That is why the ground trembles with steam. And smoke trickles from the mountains. Beneath us sleeps a great flame. Tell me, Princess Elsa, do you know its name?”

I admitted I did not.

“I thought you might have, or I would not have asked. Its name has been lost to trolls, but what dwells beneath this land, what slumbers far below in a chamber hot and bright as molten gold, is a dragon.”

Heat surged within me as the word reverberated.

_Dragon, dragon, dragon_.

Bruni leapt with a pop of flame. He scurried up my arm to hide under my braid.

_Dragon, dragon, dragon_.

Above me, Northerly acted differently. The wind changed, reversed course. Tree branches blowing one way leaned another. Now the wind was less of a wail and more of a roar in excitement.

_Dragon, dragon, dragon._

It felt like a resonant truth. A dragon sleeps deep within the continent. Its heat seeps upward through vents in the earth. The dragon’s power both excites and alarms spirits.

Remember when I thought I saw a dragon beneath Arendelle? I do not recall if I screamed, but I did fall back on my heels. But it was only the carved mast of the burial ship belonging to our forefather. Still, the potency of that moment shocked me. I felt something similar there, in the Valley of Living Rock, knowing a dragon exists in this world. Though it is distant and far, I could still feel the strength of its heat from the steam vent.

How thrilling to think more mysteries might wait beneath our feet. Is there a greater world underground? I could spelunk into caverns with Bruni to light the way. Maybe someday, but right then I had another obligation. I had promised the great stormy owl to fly with her to a new destination.

I thanked Grand Pabbie and the rest of Kristoff’s family. Then I lifted my hands to Northerly. She grasped me tenderly between icicle talons. I picked up Olaf in a hug as we rose above the Valley of Living Rock.

“Goodbye, friends!” Olaf called down. “See you in summer.”

Anna, I too hope our next meeting will be warmer.

* * *

Having read and reread your letter, I worry you were deceived by Duchess Heir Apparent Victoria. You sent Kristoff ahead to test how she would treat someone with no apparent royal status. However, the way Victoria immediately asked if he was an ice harvester makes me wonder. She may well have heard rumors of your engagement to Kristoff and his former career.

I am not certain about this, not sure as winter frost. I have not met Victoria. I only have what you wrote to go by. She may well be a wonderful person, even if right off she marked Kristoff. Anna, I am simply asking you to be cautious.

Yes, I am biased. I do not care to write out what the Duke of Weselton tried to do to me in my ice palace. Even now, among the clouds, flying on a great stormy owl, safe in the skies and limitless, I feel an undercurrent of dread. My midsection clamps, as if I just drank a full pot of poisoned tea.

You asked for my blessing before proceeding diplomatically with Victoria. From afar, I cannot say I trust her any more than her father, but it was the Duke of Weselton and not his daughter who assaulted me as queen. In general I am in favor of deposing him, elevating her, and resuming trade with their people. If only it were that simple.

At the time, Kai advised me an embargo was a more measured and merciful approach than going to war. From my current position (sky-bound), kingdoms seem small, and people and their little feuds I cannot see at all. I suspect I did wrong. The braver and better course of action may have been to forgive the Duke of Weselton.

What does vengeance accomplish? The Duke only sent his men after me in the first place because he believed me a freezing menace. I certainly was and still am dangerous. Thank you again, Anna, for helping me balance frigid fear with thawing love.

You have my blessing to drop the embargo but not to trust the Duke or the would-be Duchess. Obtain a non-aggression agreement from Victoria. Enlist merchants to spy, if you must.

As far as stopping the wars, I doubt this will be enough. I will soon relate what occurred in the Enchanted Forest. First, you should know your sister adores you, and not only because you sent her mint chocolate.

“Mint” has etymological roots in Greek myth, though I cannot remember which. I am certain of only one thing. Baked with chocolate, it tasted divine. Sadly, it is now all gone. I recall a Greecian god of wine but not for chocolate, which I assume was only because it had not been discovered yet.

Because your sister loves you, Anna, you may write as much about your romance with Kristoff as you like. Please, no need to apologize. Although I would not care about the particulars if it were anyone else, I always am interested in your happiness.

Thinking of your joyful wedding fills me with a glittering bliss, like being surrounded by diamond-grade ice. Yes, I would prefer party planning to game nights. I will be there for you, yet I also agree we should focus on stopping the wars first. For now I will say that as a child you asked for a snow dress. Even then I tried to explain it would be cold, though you refused to listen. I can promise to give your wedding dress gem-ice accents.

If only designing your gown was my greatest worry. Flying on Northerly, we were heading to the Villmark Mountains in the Forbidden Land before it happened.

“The peaks look like teeth, don’t they?” Olaf leaned dangerously forward on Northerly’s shoulder. I held his twig arms. One came loose, and I grabbed him around the waist. “Rising sharp and spiky, white fangs within dark clouds. Oh, I can’t wait to visit!”

Just then a ringing feeling made me start. 

I gazed northwest, toward the Enchanted Forest, and the vision of the four elements returned, each a slender diamond. The earth spoke flashed violet, and I knew something was happening with the stone giants.

I shouted to Northerly. We had to return to the---

Before I could finish the thought, she careened about, heading to the Enchanted Forest. Her huge owl eyes had turned with mine. She may have also seen the elementals’ sign.

Northerly wasted no time. I had thought she flew fast before. Now, her wings angled, and it felt as if we were plunging forward. We trailed a mist of frost. The wind was a roaring exaltation, the cold thrilling, the horizon nearing.

Olaf held me, screaming. “Weeeeeeee!”

Above lake, over peak, we shot toward the Enchanted Forest. Swooping down over the green fuzz of the trees, I heard the booming of giant feet. We dropped to their level, great walking towers of strength above the shivering woods. So much was happening all at once. It was difficult for me to grasp.

The earth spirits were leaving the Forest, giving chase.

Across the lichen fields, soldiers were fleeing. They were not the Northuldra.

My friends, Yelena among them, gathered at the Forest’s edge. They scrambled to herd the remaining reindeer. I wished for a split second that Kristoff were there to help.

“What’s happening,” Olaf said. “Elsa, make me an iceglass so I can see.”

I handed him one and pointed to the sea in the distance, where I spied white sails. What I wanted to know was if they were warships.

“They definitely are magnifi-ships. And see below us? What game are those guards playing with the reindeer.”

I told him they were stealing.

“That reminds me of my new theory, that ownership is a societal construct and an illusion---Ohh! The stone giants are about to join in the fun.”

The earth spirits shadowed the fleeing soldiers and would stomp them, unless I intervened to stop the colossi. That I should, I was certain. As the Fifth Spirit I can and must help spirits and humans live in harmony. The soldiers had offended the stone giants. Now it was up to me to find a better outcome than leaving them crushed to dust.

With Northerly, we banked in front of the giants leaning in. I called to my spirit friends, asked them to be at peace. Trampling over the soldiers would also harm the stolen reindeer. I promised to attend to the trespassers personally.

The stone giants rumbled to a stop, a rueful rock-slide. They regarded me with silent camaraderie. From their granite minds I gathered the soldiers had indeed marched into the Enchanted Forest. In absconding with the reindeer they had raised such a ruckus they woke the earth spirits.

Not to fear, I reassured the stone giants. I would get them recompense. 

With an icy glitter, I flew by the soldiers. I warned them to leave the reindeer behind.

They wasted no time in doing so and ran unencumbered further from the giants. “It’s her,” they called out, “the Snow Queen of Arendelle!”

Again, I was surprised how quickly they recognized me. I forgot to correct the mistaken part of the identity: my sister rules. 

“Three cheers for the Queen!” The soldiers raised their voices. Some nearly pranced. “She saved us.”

Not so fast, I called back. They stole from the Northuldra. They offended the stone giants, and for that they must make amends. After their return to their ships, they must send their Commander back to treat with me on the plains. Until then, they could not leave.

I thrust both my palms down with a frustration of frost. The sea froze around the warships. The whiteness of waves spread into a snowy stillness. Wooden boards creaked as the vessels settled in place, trapped like ships in a bottle. Anna, I did exactly what you told Victoria I could.

Dismounting Northerly with a downward glide to the tundra, I met first with Yelena of the Northuldra. “Elsa, they injured two of our people and many more reindeer.”

I held her hands and once again felt their toughness.

We did not have to wait long for the soldier’s commander. He came down from one ship in a lifeboat, though he stepped out to walk across the frozen water. The feathered cap he wore was rather bedraggled. None too fast, he trudged up the shore. Closer, his bristly whiskers, scarred face, and misshapen nose made him resemble a wild boar.

His bow to me seemed tired. “Queen Elsa, I am Commander Albert of the Fleet of Snoob. I am prepared to offer terms of surrender.”

At mention of the Snoob barony, I thought of Kai. I had not seen his brother among the fleeing soldiers, yet he could well be onboard a ship. I reminded myself that good men and women could number among them. I asked the Commander to explain himself and the intrusion of his forces in the Enchanted Forest.

He winced. “Yes, I heard tales of the mist. I saw no sign of it with my spyglass, yet I had no choice but to give the order to disembark for forage. Our supply ships foundered in bad weather. To honor my lord’s treaty with Vakretta we had to join their army against the Southern Isles. We would starve on the great blue wastes before we reached the rally point.”

So he had chosen to take advantage of the Northuldra.

“No, and I came alone to you now that I may speak true.” Sweat trickled down from his neck to his stained collar. “I sent those soldiers to die. With so little food, I had to ration the men. I did not believe they would escape the Forest alive.”

I could not believe him.

“We are at your mercy, Queen Elsa. Yet if you were to show us too much mercy, it would not help me. With so many hungry bellies, starvation at sea would lead to mutiny.” He leaned forward in something not quite a bow so much as a controlled collapse. “And so I, who must surrender, first hand over my pride and beg for aid.”

Thus did the Fleet Commander anchor me with guilt, sufficient in weight to sink me to the bottom of the sea. I felt a drowning sensation, along with a salt-water stinging in my eyes. Not only because of my situation and impending decision, I despaired of war. I have seen so little of it and already too much, if this is the manner of choices it forces upon us.

Anna, do you believe the Commander is lying to me, playing off my sympathy? Sending your own soldiers to die seems a terrible strategy. Surely he must have hoped in part they would succeed in foraging.

I am sending this letter to you now via Gale. You of course must decide what formal action Arendelle will take against the land of Snoob. Yelena will ask for her own restitution for her people’s wounds. I will find a resolution between the offended earth spirits and the soldiers of the barony.

It will not be easy.

Sincerely,

Elsa


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Elsa,  
> Tonight I’m writing you a shorter letter so it can arrive sooner. Once the ink has dried I will hand it to Gale and wave goodbye. Now is the time to move fast or I fear the peace Arendelle has enjoyed cannot last.  
> Your Anna

Dearest Elsa,

Tonight I’m writing you a shorter letter so it can arrive sooner. Once the ink has dried I will hand it to Gale and wave goodbye. Now is the time to move fast or I fear the peace Arendelle has enjoyed cannot last.

The Snoob fleet attacked our Northuldra allies. I cannot lie. At first I felt a flush of heat and gripped the hilt of Revolute. The feeling passed. Arendelle will take no vengeance. Instead I will only insist Snoob send a delegation to our peace talks in good faith.

Arendelle will host royal envoys from all the neighboring lands. I’m still working out the particulars. Once I do, you’ll be the first to hear. Of course I will have to find another place for the refugees to stay. We will need the guest rooms clear.

Oh dear! Perhaps I had not mentioned it before, but I opened the palace gates to refugees. I made that decision after overhearing a low comment from an Arendellian toward a homeless immigrant from the Southern Isles. I won’t repeat what she said and certainly would never write it. Pushing people away with hate is not what Arendelle is about, and to prove it, I housed thirty-seven refugee families with me.

Now Joan of Arc and the rest of my friends in the Hall of Portraits have company. We have partitioned the living space with curtains. And in the Great Hall, clotheslines hang in front of the marble fireplace. I wish you could see, Elsa, the rows of little darned socks drying in front of the fire. Nothing makes me happier.

The other day, a boy came to me with tears in his eyes. “I broke it. Didn’t mean to, but I did.”

He pointed to the grandfather clock. The glass case had shattered, bright shards on the floor. Another refugee held her daughter nearby, looking ashamed. The children had been playing.

I tucked in my wintergreen skirt and knelt beside the boy. “Yes, you broke it, but that’s alright. We’ll sweep it up, and someday you’ll repair someone’s broken window, or help another in need. Then everyone will be even.”

The boy asked, “Is that true?”

“I hope so.” I helped wipe his cheek. “Because I broke that clock three times growing up.”

“You didn’t! You, Queen Elsa?”

“I’m Anna. Elsa’s my sister. She was queen when I was a princess. Now we’ve traded places.”

“Wow!” His green eyes were huge and no longer tearing. “Do you have magic, too?”

“No, but I have you as a friend, and your family, and everyone in Arendelle. When people work together they can achieve something magical.”

Elsa, that’s exactly what I hope to do in the peace talks. Strangers from different nations can work together, as we proved in the Arendelle Cup. To build on that camaraderie I am requesting each delegation include their country’s sleighing team.

Ambassador Mari helped me draft the invitations but not before expressing some concern. “Anna, I wonder if it’s possible to avoid war. Meerkats are loving, but even they sometimes raid neighboring groups and kill.”

“We aren’t animals,” I said. “People can be better.”

“Yes, they can be.” Mari had rolled up the sleeve on her writing arm, and her adorable lynx tattoo was visible. “But mostly they are worse.”

“Well, what makes meerkats hurt each other?” I asked.

“Not enough food. Too little space.”

Lord Kai has told me that nearby nations are in similar straits. But I don’t believe too many people are the problem, only too little cooperation. It doesn’t matter how many people live in a country if their policies leave them isolated and alone. Too many in Weselton went hungry because they had nowhere to sell their timber. In Arendelle, more wooden boards will mean more fishing boats and more food traded to all our neighbors.

I believe many such solutions can be found between kingdoms and queendoms. By working together we can avoid the need for war.

No one should be alone, not even nations.

To that end I hope to build a road of rails through the mountains, with a stop at Snoob. Connecting landlocked countries will give them more possibilities, other than raids. True, we haven’t finished our first loco-motive yet, but I’m excited to see the progress at Jorgen’s Forge. A report on my desk promises we’re close. Brigida and her team of smiths are achieving something close to magic.

I believe in the power of people working together. After all, that’s the Sisters’ Golden Rule. Father told us to rely on each other. These letters connect us somewhat, but I am still worried we’re drifting apart.

You idly dropped that you were flying on a strange spirit to the Forbidden Lands. What? If you hadn’t been called back to the Enchanted Forest you would’ve gone straight there after charades in Arendelle, without telling anyone.

I remember the cold terror of those peaks, the biting wind, the hungry beasts. My teeth are chattering, with a blizzard of worries whirling inside of me. I felt the same way when you told me you were crossing the Dark Sea alone. I am afraid for you.

Elsa, you do not have to go out by yourself and Olaf. Come home. Bring a Northuldra delegation to the peace talks. You can speak on behalf of the spirits. If I could reassure everyone Princess Elsa would be there the ambassadors would be delighted to hear it.

I would like to write more. I should share more of my concerns, but I want this letter to reach you before you depart the Enchanted Forest.

Wishing you and the stone giants plenty of rest,

Your Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking over the story structure, I decided these last handful of letters should be shorter. I certainly have the opportunity to go back at a later date and add in more to the middle at the story, but here, closer to the end, I am focusing on quicker correspondence. Likewise I aim to deliver multiple letters each week.   
> The ending may be more intense than I initially envisioned. If it's too much or too little, let me know. I can think of another solution.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Queen Anna,  
> I knew your letter was urgent as soon as it arrived without chocolate. Gale will return my assurances with as much haste.  
> Sincerely,  
> Elsa

Dear Queen Anna,

I knew your letter was urgent as soon as it arrived without chocolate. Gale will return my assurances with as much haste.

Sister, do not worry for my safety. I have Olaf to watch my back, along with two fearsome elemental friends, Bruni and Northerly. More than that, I am the Fifth Spirit. My voice carries the weight of avalanche. My will is glacial, and my disfavor freezes seas.

I fear only my own power. My presence itself could be a threat. Anna, I may overshadow your peace talks. You wanted to build on cooperation, not intimidation. Although I will miss seeing the Arendelle Cup contestants, I am better off at a distance.

Locking the Snoob fleet in ice brought feelings of disquiet. As queen I was responsible for many people, but the last time I held so many in my direct power was during Arendelle’s eternal winter. All yesterday I felt the soldiers’ dread wafting from the sea like a breeze from a whale graveyard. Maybe I have grown more sensitive. Or I imagined it, but I felt full of rotten ice, grey and fit to crumble. 

Queasy, I could not eat the roast reindeer and berries Yelana offered me.

“My apologies,” she said. “I forgot how the Fifth Spirit before you subsisted on only camaraderie and moonbeams.”

I told her that was incredible. 

“Only because it isn’t true,” Yelana said with a wink. “Let me know when you get hungry.”

The Northuldra had camped in a clearing. Dusk had deepened, and the night began to glimmer with northern lights.

Yelana gazed up and sighed. “We have the sky, and now we have enough salt. The raiders rolled two barrels to us over the ice. They have met our request.”

It seemed small restitution for a grievous invasion. I asked her if she was satisfied. 

“Yes, because the Northuldra have no taste for vengeance.” She bowed her head and took another bite of meat. Yelana chewed with relish.

For the offense to the stone giants, the fleet would depart without their Commander. Whether he had lied to me or simply had sent his soldiers to die, I had decided the punishment should fall on him. Thank you, Anna, for confirming my suspicions. He will stay behind and clean the lichen off every earth spirit. It could take him a year. 

With the warmth of forgiveness I broke up the sea ice and set the ships free. If only I could be sure they would not one day return to war. When they do, I will likely not be near. Even if I were, it is not my place as the Fifth Spirit to dominate. Nor is it my desire. 

The Enchanted Forest is safe enough. Here we have the stone giants. I told Yelana I wished all lands could have such strong friends. Then war would never be seen as profitable.

“Once four spirit guardians did stop an invasion,” Yelana said.

I asked her if she meant the four elements.

“Not quite. There were many more than four spirits, from all elements, but four loomed largest in the minds of the invaders and forced them to flee. Or so the legends say. An army of boats came from the west, then they circled to the north, east, and south. From each direction they were driven back by spirits.”

I sat up straighter. Behind her, the night sky bloomed pink with ribbon folds of aurora. 

“The northern guardians you know. They were and still are the stone giants. The eastern spirit was a great eagle. The western one, a mighty boar.”

When Yelana said this, I thought of the shadow boar you often talked about. I believe you called it the Spy Pig? The one Yelana spoke of would have been a spirit swine and great indeed to rival the stone giants.

“And the southern guardian, most fearsome of all, was a monster of fire.”

The earth spirits I had met. I asked her where the other guardians were.

“They have gone, their great task done. The eagle’s wings turned into rain clouds to make plants grow. The boar died of old age, and his spine became a mountain range. And the great fire descended into the land, to warm it. You can see its heat hiss out between rocks as steam.”

At that I exclaimed. This subterranean fire was the same one Grand Pabbie had mentioned. It was the dragon.

Above us, Northerly keened in agreement. Between her flurries, the aurora washed turquoise.

“My people do not call the great fire spirit by that name,” Yelana said. 

But that was what it was, I maintained. A being of flame, the dragon could stop the war. It had done so before. 

Yelana did not appear to share my excitement at the prospect. Maybe she is simply stoic. “I am not sure that is wise. But then, it is not my place to decide. You are the Fifth Spirit.”

Yes, this could be my purpose, to bring a legend back to life. I could journey underground to wake a sleeping dragon. The thought of descending into the unknown made me feel bright and crystalline.

I thanked Yelana and leapt to my feet. Though I did not know where to find the dragon spirit, I believe Northerly might. Despite her name, she had been taking me south, to the Forbidden Lands. Whenever someone had spoken of the dragon, she had shrieked in acknowledgment. 

Now she lifted me, talons thrilling against my skin. The ground flew away. The wind of our speed refreshed me. I soared with Bruni and Olaf above the trees. Higher still, the aurora changed course. Its colors shimmered closer to red. 

How comforting to think, Anna, that you too may look up and see the same light. You mentioned a concern that we are becoming distant. I do not feel the same way. You are always with me, in my thoughts, and these letters are bringing us closer than ever.

True, we do not see eye to eye on the war. You want to resolve it through peace talks. I wish to stop it with a dragon spirit. We have always had our own ways. At least we are agreed there must be an end to hostilities. 

Northerly’s cry of “waste” now takes on new meaning. It would be wasteful to leave the dragon buried, its strength ever sleeping. 

Anna, I do not doubt you will question this course of action. You also were worried when I matched my ice against Bruni’s fire, but in the end, I made a wonderful friend. Now Bruni is with me, gazing up at the aurora’s ghost flame.

The sky is awake, and so you must also be.

Sincerely,

Elsa


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Elsa,  
> That day, on the coast by the Dark Sea, I thought I was clearly expressing my concerns. But what I wasn’t bold enough to say were my needs. And before, I never told you my desire to go on the Grand Tour. In these letters, I am trying to be braver.  
> Your Anna

Elsa!

Haven’t you ever heard, “Let sleeping dragons lie”?

 ~~Elsa, I’m not angry at you.~~ I am angry. I’m furious, not at you but with you and for you. Because I love you, Elsa.

Do you think you’re invincible? That’s clearly not so. You’ve gone too deep before. When you did, in Ahtohallan, was I also in your thoughts then? Did you ignore me, or was I forgotten?

What part of “dragon” do you not understand? Yelana called it a monster. Your fire salamander is afraid of its smell. The Northerly spirit wants you to find it, but do you even know her that well? To me the wind seems cold and bitter.

A wonderful sister once told me, “You can’t marry a man you just met.”

In return, I’m telling you, “You can’t fly into the Forbidden Land on a spirit you don’t understand.”

Or you can, but it’s making your poor sister frantic. And it isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this. You promised before the Enchanted Forest we would do this together.

You left me behind.

You pushed Olaf away, too, didn’t even say goodbye.

I’ll let him tell you how he felt afterward. As for me, I’m asking you not to leave him behind again. And please, please, please listen to him.

That day, on the coast by the Dark Sea, I thought I was clearly expressing my concerns. But what I wasn’t bold enough to say were my needs. And before, I never told you my desire to go on the Grand Tour. In these letters, I am trying to be braver.

Elsa, I need you to come home. Not because of the war. Not for peace. For me.

I’m not like you. Your absence is a wound. The hurt of it throbs greater every day. As a bandage I hung your portrait in my study, but your painting refuses to answer me. She only reminds me of what I lack. At night, I dream you’ll never come back. I run through the frosty halls, every door frozen shut.

Elsa, I need you to choose me over your own designs, this time.

I broke into tears when young Fredmond asked when you would return to court. Your biggest fan has the biggest blue eyes and the biggest kind heart. He carved you a crocus of ice. It melted in my hands.

I don’t understand. Elsa, why do you fly from those who love you?

When I was shut out, growing up, at least I always knew where you were. You promised no more closed doors. Now I need you to mean it.

Crying on the page,

Your Anna

P.S.: I wanted to send this letter straight away, but Gale’s gone. She likely is racing ripples across the fjord. I tried to tell her it was urgent, but communication is difficult, even more when you don’t share a language. Hopefully, she will return soon. In the meantime, I will write about our work in the forge.

* * *

I love the heat of Oaken’s sauna, and this was even better. Brigida’s furnaces blazed with warmth. It filled me with fiery happiness. I sweated, glistening, which made me feel clean.

“Your Majesty.” Brigida shouted with the same rumbling timbre as her forge. Her close-shaven hair was red and glowing. “I fear we won’t make our schedule. My girls are collapsing at the billows. And Lise had a drop, burned her hand. Not sure when she’ll work again.”

“You can’t go faster when exhausted,” I said. “Tell your crew to take a holiday.”

“But our schedule---”

“But my people.” I lifted a hand. “Everyone will work better after a break. And for half the day you can start to train a second shift, if you please.”

“More workers? Who?”

“The refugees. They are well rested. Every day they ask me what they can do for Arendelle.”

“Anyone eager to work, I’m eager to have,” Brigida said.

Nearby, a man and a woman lowered a glowing length of iron into a basin. Steam erupted outward in a cloud of exaltation. A symphony of hammers played along with a percussion of running feet. Everyone was busy.

Oh, Elsa, right then I was so happy. As news of a holiday spread, cheers rang out.

“Before you go, Brigida, I have something for you.” I lifted a present tied with a bow of crimson.

She threw the wrapping paper into the fire but saved the ribbon. From inside a box, she lifted a new smithy apron. I had commissioned it with the design of the royal crocus.

“Your work is important,” I said. “The loco-motive you’re building will connect people. It will carry Arendelle into a new age of peace and prosperity.”

The apron fit snug around the big woman and made her look very official. She gazed down at herself then rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, My Queen. Got some soot in my eye.”

Both of her eyes had looked teary. Alongside the soot smudges on her faces, her deep-felt emotion had been lovely.

I opened my arms, and she accepted the embrace. With her strength, I was nearly squashed. I should like to introduce her and her warm hugs to Olaf. 

“Thank you,” she said, “for all you have done and will do.”

“And thank you, Brigida.”

Next I went to check on Lise and her injury. On the way to the---

Oh! Elsa, Gale is back. I’m blowing desperately on the page to dry the ink. Have to stop writing or I'll faint.

Hoping to see you soon and not a dragon,

Your Anna


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Anna,  
> You need me to visit home. Very well, as long as you allow sometimes I must be alone. This is one: my exploration to find the dragon.  
> Sincerely,  
> Elsa

Dear Anna,

You were in my thoughts, in the glacier. Standing in Ahtohallan, before the ice chasm, about to dive in, I knew going deeper was dangerous. I did so to save you from the Enchanted Forest’s mist.

I never fly away from those I love, only toward something I’ve been dreaming of. Then, I followed a voice to the north and truth. Now, I trace trails of steam underground toward their source. Both times were not to leave you behind but to bring you closer to safety.

Anna, My Midsummer Princess, I do not fear cold or fire, tooth or claw, but I am afraid of losing you. In my nightmares you are captured by another kingdom; Arendelle is overrun, Olaf melted, Kristoff lost, and everyone I cared for gone because I did not do enough. I may be able to soar above mountains, but I am still weighed down by a gravity of responsibility.

That is why at the edge of the Dark Sea I left you behind: not because I cared too little for you but too much. Yes, I promised we would go together, but I had made a greater promise to myself, to never harm you again.

As you have spoken your truth so will I, though I do worry it will hurt. Anna, you would not have survived the journey across the sea. Believe me, winds blew hard enough to break ships, and the Water Nokk would have kicked us apart, blinded me with his mane of salt, and left you drowned.

Even now I imagine seeing you floating face-down, or wandering in the Forest behind the mist until your hair goes white from age. My inaction could harm you as surely as a shard of ice in the heart.

A certainty drives me, cold and glacier deep, that by plunging forward in the Forbidden Land, around mountains and under them to find the dragon, I can save you, Arendelle, and everything I care for.

With a dragon for a friend, I could stop the war.

With no war to worry over, you need not build a loco-motive connecting our nation with others that may take advantage of us.

With no need for machines, you could stop burning coal. Arendelle could go back to the way it was, with clear skies and crisp air.

Presently, a black river of smoke snakes its way up from Jorgen’s Forge. I saw it as I left. Though I cannot quite say why it disturbs me, I fear the worst. Instead of seeking to change our queendom, like the Northuldra we could make the choice to change ourselves.

I do not blame you for worrying about my decision to seek a dragon. Yours to connect Arendelle with other kingdoms by rail worries me. What would stop less honorable rulers from using that easy access to invade us?

I also hear your concern that we are drifting apart. Yet, were I to bring you along on my adventure into the glacier or to find this dragon I would be too fearful to start.

You need me to visit home. Very well, as long as you allow sometimes I must be alone. This is one: my exploration to find the dragon.

Though you feel differently, to me this journey brings us closer. In your last letter you described the warmth of a furnace. The dragon’s heat is nothing short of furious. I can feel it through the mountain stone even as I write this.

Here again we differ. Whereas you savored the increased temperature, I found it most inclement. I felt like I was swimming in sweat. Yes, your sister, the Fifth Spirit, perspired, which made me feel foul.

You experienced the steam of quenching iron. I discovered vapor rich with sulfur hissing from the mountains. It leaked from crevices, around which snow melted. Northerly deposited me at one such crack in the rock, perhaps with its sides slightly further apart: no proper cavern, this. If I tried to squeeze in sideways my hips could possibly fit, though it would mean pushing forward into darkness. I might well get stuck.

I asked Northerly if she expected me to find the dragon this way. I had imagined an entrance more grand, a runed arch leading into the stone.

In answer, the spirit did something I did not expect. She released her hold on the snowy body I had made. I sensed a whooshing departure as Northerly left her vessel of the owl. A pure wind again, she pressed against the mountain. The steam flattened and was forced backward into its vent; Northerly breezed her way in and out of sight.

She meant to lead us to the dragon, or so I assumed. I told Olaf as much. Steam wafted over us.

“Phew!” Olaf waved a hand over his carrot nose. “If that smell’s from the dragon he needs to apologize.”

I commented that Olaf should not presume the dragon’s gender, though Olaf was right on one account. The strong scent of brimstone did make my eyes smart.

Bruni clearly did not like it. He made an adorable sneezing sound with a puff of pink flame. The fire salamander stayed outside on the cold slope, hopping between snow drifts. He seemed content.

I made a start, creeping in between creases of slick rock. Before disappearing into the dark, I glanced back and had a thought. A sculpture of a great snowy owl now marked this spot. Its orb eyes of ice, presently lifeless, stare at the entrance. Should you need to, you could find it. I hoped it would not come to that, as I crawled my way into the unknown.

*  *  *

With Olaf behind and Northerly ahead, we wormed below the mountain’s foundations. I felt as if I burrowed between roots of stone. I was not sure another living soul had traveled this way before.

It was beautiful.

My heart beat a thrilling rhythm. My fingers throbbed with excitement as I inched forward, deeper into the mountain’s embrace.

I called back to Olaf, asking if he was enjoying this.

“Oh yes! I don’t know where we’re going, but I can’t wait to get there.”

I reminded him we were on our way to make a new friend. The heat of the rock pressed against my legs, arms, and face all came from a dragon.

“Really? Then dragons must give the best warm hugs.”

I warned Olaf they may be too hot.

“Help, Elsa!” Olaf waved his stick arm through a crack. “I’m stuck.”

We turned his midsection vertical and pulled him through part by part. His snow felt wet. I increased his permafrost to compensate for the heat. For the first time I worried it might not be fair to bring Olaf along, yet time after time you have asked me not to leave him behind.

“Elsa, you’re glowing.” Olaf tapped an ice jewel on my dress. It shone. Beside it, other crystals twinkled. The crawlspace was filled with light white as frosty icicles.

Ahead, from around a bend of stone, leaked a faintest hint of red.

I clambered toward it, hand over foot. The heat increased. Touching the rock with my bare hands began to sting, so I encased them in ice gloves. Whenever I took a new handhold, they steamed.

An animal’s skeleton startled me: a pile of bones. Even after I steadied myself with a deep breath, the skull gave me pause. The incisors made me guess it had been some sort of large cat.

Northerly murmured ahead with encouragement.

In a narrow section, I went head first, on my back, scooting forward with my legs. When the passage got tight, I slicked the walls with ice. Vapor wafted around me. At last the cavern opened, and I could stand.

So far underground, a pressure of excitement built up. Had anyone traveled this way before, or was I the first? The fiery light ahead grew stronger. It misted red up from a fissure running deeper. On my next step I stumbled, caught myself, and bent low to see. Yes, I was walking down a crude stair.

Someone had been here.

I called over my shoulder, to Olaf. This was it. Here was the way. Not much further, and I could set the dragon free.

“I can’t wait to meet a dragon. Will they be the size of a cat? Or closer to a horse?”

No, I told Olaf. In the legends, dragons were very large.

Olaf looked forward and back. “This is only a crack. How will the dragon leave the mountains with us?”

I could only imagine they would erupt.

This was when I started to sweat. The heat was something physical to be waded through. It felt like pushing between sopping-hot blankets. My dress began to drip. I gritted my teeth and armored myself in plates of ice.

Now I was the one steaming, billowing. Northerly somersaulted in the tight space with gusts of glee. Step by step, I had a greater sense this was my purpose. 

The red light now seemed to pulse, a welling throb. Below us, it grew nearer, larger. It outshone a lighthouse. I thought of the blazing forges you wrote about in your last letter.

I shouted to Olaf our goal could not be much further.

“I’m coming. Or maybe I should say I’m running.” Olaf had begun to melt. Droplets fell from him down the steps.

Empowering his permafrost again, I began to feel a strain. Casting cold most often feels like singing, pure notes of ice flowing in a glittering stream. It is a joy, usually. Now my magic came with pain.

The heat hammered me, smashing my snowy armor. The ablation released blasts of mist. My protective ice steamed away as fast as I could create it. My eyes were tearing. I could not stop blinking. It stung to see.

Anna, I admit I again felt thankful I had not brought you on this adventure. As much as you like warmth, this temperature was relentless. Its crimson pressure began to feel like malice.

I heard a gurgle from Olaf. “Elsa, catch me!”

His permafrost had boiled off. Olaf’s face sank, carrot dipping. His buttons tumbled down the stair, coal plinking

Seeing Olaf melt petrified my heart. My chest throbbed with agony. I stumbled up to him, scrounging for his buttons. I pressed them back to him with a reinforcement of chill. He solidified again, but it could not last.

I told him to go back. A dragon’s lair was no place for a snowman, even a magical one.

The moment I said it, I thought of you. Anna, I knew leaving Olaf behind was the last thing you wanted me to do.

From him, I looked down the passage. That is when I saw it. The end of the stair, it was there. Beyond, a level space opened with a familiar shape carved into the stone. I should have known. In the flickering limit of my vision I saw an elemental diamond, one of the four, inscribed into the floor. I had seen something similar in the glacier, waiting for me to step into my power.

I had found another here. As Ahtohallan was a sacred magnificence of ice, this was one of fire. To reach the dragon, the Fifth Spirit was required. This was the lock and I, the key.

Northerly spun above the diamonds in a ripple of heat. She had come a long way to bring me to this spot.

And yet, reaching it would mean leaving Olaf behind. I thought of your disappointment, how your lower lip trembles when you frown. I was torn.

Ahead of me was something only I could achieve. Northerly was expecting me. How dreadful to abandon an adventure mere steps from its end, from my goal, from my purpose, from all I have been fighting for.

“What’s wrong, Elsa?” Olaf asked, his face half melted.

I told him I was trying to figure that out: what was wrong and what was right.

He wobbled as he tried to hug. “Love your new armor!”

I took his twig hand in my icy gauntlet. One thing I was sure of: I did not want to be a disappointment. I asked Olaf if he could forgive me if I left him behind again.

“I would try, Elsa, but the last time, with the ice sled, I had more feelings than I had ever felt. And they were all hard and jagged.”

That settled it. Olaf is so loving. He may have been able to forgive me in time, but I doubted I could forgive myself.

I turned from the diamond sigil, away from my burning destiny.

Northerly whirled around to shriek in my face.  _ Waste! Waste! _

In the dimness, her words carried with them a new vision. I began to better understand them. Or maybe with her fury she expressed herself with new clarity.

I saw her fears. They manifested as people crowding shoulder to shoulder over the entire world, of burning forests, hills blasting to pieces, and skies graying with smoke. It was a kaleidoscope of fire and dread. The image of a flying dragon was at the center of it, radiant and heroic. Northerly saw the dragon as the solution, but all around I witnessed destruction.

_ Waste! Waste! _

I thought of your warning. Who was Northerly to me? If some people could be evil, were spirits so different? Gale had introduced me to Northerly, but the well-meaning can be mistaken.

Although a strong wind in the sky, Northerly was deep in the earth and puny. With her full force she could do no more than puff against my cheek. I continued upward with Olaf, past her.

_ Waste!  _ She kept saying to my face.  _ Waste! _ But it made no difference.

Olaf and I reached the surface. Northerly blew past us.

She raced into the great snowy owl I had created. Northerly meant to repossess it. Her beak opened with a vicious hook. The emotion wafting from her now felt less like the familiar impatience and more like hatred. I saw her talons angle forward, her wings begin to spread.

I shattered my work of ice into a million pieces. They tinkled down the mountainside like so many fallen stars.

_ Waste! _

I gathered the glittering remains and made Olaf and myself a cozy house. It filled with steam from the vent. Bruni tolerated it, though the fire salamander hid under my skirts. I admitted to Bruni that he may have been wise to stay clear of the dragon.

He flicked out a pink tongue at me.

Thinking over my incomplete adventure, I keep returning to the dragon’s power. Its heat felt limitless. What if we could channel its steam into Oaken’s machines? Then we would not have to burn coal. I intend to speak to him and Sorenson about the problem.

When I sensed Gale approach, I let her in but kept the north wind out. Northerly could do no more than flurry.

Soon Gale, that worthy spirit, will return this letter to you. I will see to that. Whether I have done right I am not sure. If we decide I should free the dragon, I could return to the diamond sigil tomorrow, but that decision is one I now see we must make together.

Lovingly,

Elsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I outlined these letters heavily, but I'm still pleasantly surprised this one ended on such a hopeful note. I was worried this story would finish more ominously. This is brighter, which I have to believe is strictly better.  
> The next letter is the last one I have planned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Elsa,  
> So we’ll have a dragon for a friend after all. I am sorry it’s not the one you wanted. This one’s mine. And right then, in the richness of its heat, in the glory of its engine’s roar, I felt like a true queen.  
> Your Anna

Dearest Elsa,

Crusty crowberries! You didn’t have to write your letter like that. I wouldn’t have known whether or not you listened until the end. Luckily, I skipped there and read the last page first.

I’m so happy! Lady Gerda agreed to do a little dance with me. I’m delighted because you stayed with Olaf. You took care of yourself. You didn’t let loose the dragon and get burned to a crisp.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I hate to argue, but disagreement isn’t as bad as leaving burning needs bottled. There’s still one left in me, the darkest fear I’ve yet to share. I will gather my courage and try to do so by the end of this letter. You can skip there now if you want. Ha! I know you won’t.

So I will address your most important question first. No, I don’t think waking a dragon is a good idea. No, I don’t want it to erupt out with a huge ash cloud. No, I am not keen on a fire hazard with wings.

Yes, you had to take risks to save everyone in the Enchanted Forest. I appreciate how you wrote out your reasoning, but this time is different. We have other options. I would love for you to take part in them.

Princess Elsa, I officially invite you to attend the peace talks at Arendelle, as a spirit ambassador. You expressed concerns that you would overshadow the proceedings. I disagree. Your absence would be more harmful. People will wish to see you, if only to be reassured of my rightful claim to succession. I would have mentioned this in the last letter, if not for the rush.

If you’re worried about people seeing you and your magic as a threat, create art instead. Fill the courtyard with ice sculptures. Paint the halls with frost murals. Are you sad about not rescuing a dragon? Fashion another one out of snow. Craft a slide into its side so children (and I) can play. Help me build camaraderie. If the delegations from other nations laugh and ice-skate together, we’ll be well on our way to peace.

Please come. The cooks will serve your favorite, pickled herring.

I’m holding my nose right now just thinking about that fish. Pee-yew! I won’t pretend to understand everything you do. I still love you.

Elsa, I understand you abandoned me at the Dark Sea out of feelings of love and fears for my safety. You meant well, I know you always do, but kindly listen to me when I say I’m done with your coddling. Leaving me on the beach felt like slamming a door in my face.

You say it was the right choice, that taking me along was too dangerous, but in doing so you kicked Olaf and me away on an ice sled. We ended up floating downriver among sleeping giants. We could’ve been crushed. Your trying to protect me put my life at risk.

Olaf is still young, but I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions about my safety. You made me queen. You should trust me this much at least. This overprotectiveness I find disturbing. I’ll write more about that soon.

For now, please consider this. If something is too dangerous for a sister, then maybe, just possibly, you also should stay away. After all, you’re a sister yourself.

I am relieved in your last letter that you heard me. You didn’t marry a mad spirit you just met. I can believe it must have been difficult, for you, to walk out of that cave, away from the Fifth-Spirit diamond thing, and wait until you heard back from me. You may have abdicated, but in that moment you proved yourself to be the Queen or Responsibility.

You wrote a lot in your last letter but not one apology. In a way, I’m relieved. I didn’t ask you for words but action, and that you delivered.

Elsa, you discovered you were the only one who could rouse the dragon, and you chose not to act. You felt a fiery destiny, and yet you had the wherewithal to hold back. Again, thank you! Just because you can set free a legendary fire monster doesn’t mean you should. Yes, maybe the dragon could’ve been a friend and ally, but they could’ve also toasted the whole countryside. No need to take that risk when we have better options.

Arendelle’s new loco-motive, for one. Yes, like Olaf says, new technology can be scary. But I believe in the power of connecting people. A rail-road through the mountains will link many nations. Who knows, maybe someday technology could connect the entire world. Then we would know everyone who needed help, and someone out there would know how. We would have no more need for war.

For example, Elsa, I need help. Building a rail-road through the mountains may scare spirits along the way. Who knows what sort of trouble they could make? Avalanches, for a start. But with the Fifth Spirit at my side, we could find a compromise. Arendelle workers wouldn’t step in any spirit’s garden by mistake.

Make no mistake, I’m building as much rail-road as I can. We’ve already begun. The first loco-motive started moving today.

“Hoo-hoo! Queen Anna,” Oaken said, in Jorgen’s Forge Village, “the prototype is ready for you.”

“Yes,” Brigida said, behind him. “It’s only right you christen it.”

“Christen it?” I asked, holding up Revolute. “You mean with a sword?”

At my side, Lord Kai gingerly took hold of my sword arm. He cleared his throat and not because of the furnaces’ smoke. “No, Your Majesty, you’re not knighting the loco-motive, but you have been given the honor of naming it.”

A crowd had gathered around a shining new loco-motive. Its iron was polished, its pistons oiled, and its front lacquered with a royal crocus. It gleamed almost as bright as the pride in the eyes of the workers who built it. The refugees were here, along with native Arendellians, men and women from the forges and the height of the mountains, from the town and from the fishing boats. All had turned out to watch. 

I stepped past Lord Kai, with my sword still raised. “You say one thing, but I see a ribbon up by the engine compartment that needs to be cut.”

In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to wave around Revolute. Feel free to talk to me about that, Elsa.

At the time, the crowd made way, with less fear of my blade and more excitement, or so I like to believe. I walked toward our new machine, our new achievement, and the ribbon I would cut, but I couldn’t feel my feet, or legs. I might as well have floated on the buzzing sweetness of my happiness.

“Queen Anna!” People chanted. They threw crocus petals, purple and yellow, in celebration. “Queen Anna!”

I spotted so many I knew in the crowd. Hedda leaped, her frizzy hair bouncing. Tilda rested a hand on her apron and grinned at me. Albrecht put his fingers in his mouth to whistle. Dagmar waved an Arendelle flag. Anders lifted a fish snack on a stick. And there was Sigrid along with my other friends, Lise with her arm in a splint, Thea, and Mari in her furry cloak. They called out, “Anna! Anna, cut the ribbon!”

I dashed to the side of the loco-motive. Kristoff was there with Sven. My lordly ice deliverer almost was tall enough to reach the great curve of the engine.

Smiling at him, I took the last few steps and cut the ribbon. Revolute breezed through it, either side fluttering away in a trail of silken green.

I heard a roaring, from the crowd I think, but it could’ve been from the joy I was feeling.

“My Queen!” Kristoff met me at the base of the ladder leading up to the engine platform. He offered a hand up.

Being responsible, I sheathed Revolute before taking it. With my other hand, I gripped an iron rung. Then, from above, Ada and Tuva pulled me up. Their grins were smudged with soot.

I turned to the crowd and gave a short speech about my hopes for Arendelle and a greater community. That got some excitement but not as much as my next promise. When the loco-motive returned with its first load of ice, Oaken would grind some into free snow candy.

“Of my own invention,” he called out.

“Psst! Anna.” Below me, Kristoff patted one of the great iron wheels. “Don’t forget to name this.”

I looked around for inspiration. Next to me, the women had wasted no time in shoveling more coal into the engine. Its furnace blazed red. I remembered your letter, and the color of light in your descent.

That was it! “This first loco-motive will be _The Dragon_!”

So, Elsa, we’ll have a dragon for a friend after all. I am sorry it’s not the one you wanted. This one’s mine. And right then, in the richness of its heat, in the glory of its engine’s roar, I felt like a true queen.

Steam blasted up from the loco-motive. The cheering rose with it. The next plume came greater, a burst of white from its chimney. We weren’t moving yet, only building up steam.

“She’s the Queen of Steam,” someone called from the crowd.

People took up the call. My people. They shouted it between the engine’s outbursts.

“Queen of Steam!”

_Whoosh!_

“Queen of Steam!”

_Whoosh!_

Writing about this, I can still feel the ringing triumph, the hopeful brilliance. Holding tight to it, I can at last admit to you, the sister I love, my greatest fear. I am not saying it is true. I only wish for you to know how I feel.

Part of me believes you had another reason for making me queen. Maybe not consciously. But reading your last letters only increased my worry.

~~That you shackled me with a crown.~~

You crowned me to ground me here, to keep me secure, while you go out alone on adventures.

There, at last I wrote it. It was something I could barely think. I couldn’t whisper it, even only to myself, but that didn’t make the thought go away. It only wedged deeper, a splinter I’ve at last pulled free.

That’s why I had to be firm with my needs. Yes, I want you to come home. True, I could use your help in the peace talks. Most of all I needed you to prove my fear wrong.

By backing off from the dragon you’ve taken the first step to reassuring me. Let’s take the next together, as sisters. And, yes, Elsa, I understand you enjoy exploring by yourself, but let’s find a way for you to do it that doesn’t leave me scared witless.

Do not send another letter, not until you’ve sent your wonderful self first. We’ve come far with our writing. To go further I need us to meet in person.

Returning to the festivities from earlier today, I have to say the engine did not build up heat faster than my desire to start. I asked, “Ada, when can we get rolling?”

“We’re almost there.” Ada took my hand and rested it on a crank lever. “You can do the honors.”

Tuva peered up at one of the engine gages. “Ready?”

“I was born ready.” My heart felt full of fire. I couldn’t wait to show the people of Arendelle what we can do when we work together. I blew a kiss down to Kristoff then braced myself.

The woman engineer called out, “Now, pull!”

With a whoop, I shouted, “Full-steam ahead!”

With love,

Your Anna

**Author's Note:**

> Please do help me improve the letters with feedback. Expect a new one delivered every week.


End file.
